"HELD IN BONDAGE;"
OR,
GRANVILLE DE VIGNE.
CHAPTER I.
THE SENIOR PUPIL OF THE CHANCERY.
It was pleasant down there in Berkshire, when the water rushed beneath the keel; our oars feathered neatly on the ringing rowlocks; the river foamed and flew as we gripped it; and the alders and willows tossed in the sunshine, while we—private pupils, as our tutor called us,—men, as we called ourselves—used to pull up the Kennet, as though we were some of an University Eight, and lunch at the Ferry-inn off raw chops and half-and-half, making love to its big-boned, red-haired Hebe, and happy as kings in those summer days, in the dead years long past and gone. What a royal time it was!—(who amongst us does not say so?)—when our hearts owned no heavier cares
