clared beforehand that Will would lose caste. "I never had any caste," he would have said, if that prophecy had been uttered to him, and the quick blood would have come and gone like breath in his transparent skin. But it is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences.
Meanwhile, the town opinion about the new editor of the 'Pioneer' was tending to confirm Mr Casaubon's view. Will's relationship in that distinguished quarter did not, like Lydgate's high connections, serve as an advantageous introduction: if it was rumoured that young Ladislaw was Mr Casaubon's nephew or cousin, it was also rumoured that "Mr Casaubon would have nothing to do with him."
"Brooke has taken him up," said Mr Hawley, "because that is what no man in his senses could have expected. Casaubon has devilish good reasons, you may be sure, for turning the cold shoulder on a young fellow whose bringing-up he paid for. Just like Brooke—one of those fellows who would praise a cat to sell a horse."
And some oddities of Will's, more or less poetical, appeared to support Mr Keck, the editor of the 'Trumpet,' in asserting that Ladislaw, if the truth were known, was not only a Polish emissary but crack-brained, which accounted for the preter-
