Lucian received the news which Mr. Chilverstone communicated to him in skilful and diplomatic fashion with an equanimity which seemed natural to him when hearing of anything that appeared to be his just due. He had so far had everything that he desired—always excepting the fidelity of Haidee, which now seemed a matter of no moment and was no longer a sore point—and he took it as a natural consequence of his own existence that he should go to Oxford, the fame of which ancient seat of learning had been familiar to him from boyhood. He made no inquiries as to the cost of this step—anything relating to money had no interest for him, save as regards laying it out on the things he desired. He had been accustomed as a child to see his father receive considerable sums and spend them with royal lavishness, and as he had never known what it was to have to earn money before it could be enjoyed, he troubled himself in nowise as to the source of the supplies which were to keep him at Oxford for three years. He listened attentively to Mr. Pepperdine’s solemn admonitions on the subjects of economy and extravagance, and replied at the end thereof that he would always let his uncle have a few days’ notice when he wanted a cheque—a remark which made Lord Simonstower’s fellow-conspirator think a good deal.

It was impossible at this stage to do anything or say anything to shake Lucian’s confidence in his destiny. He meant to work hard and to do great things, and without being conceited he was sure of success—it seemed to him to be his rightful due. Thanks to the influence of his father in childhood and to that of Mr. Chilverstone at a later stage, he had formed a fine taste and was already an accomplished scholar. He had never read any trash in his life, and it was now extremely{100} unlikely that he ever would, for he had developed an almost womanish dislike of the unlovely, the mean, and the sordid, and a delicate contempt for anything in literature that was not based on good models. Mr. Chilverstone had every confidence in him, and every hope of his future; it filled him with pride to know that he was sending so promising a man to his own university; but he was cast down when he found that Lord Simonstower insisted on Lucian’s entrance at St. Benedict’s, instead of at St. Perpetua’s, his own old college.

The only person who was full of fears was Sprats. She had been Lucian’s other self for six years, and she, more than any one else, knew his need of constant help and friendship. He was full of simplicity; he credited everybody with the possession of qualities an............