The country knew him--though he never knew the country--from Abingdon to Bablock Hythe.

His name stood high, too, at the Union, where he made his mark during his first term in a debate on a 'Censorship of Literature' which he advocated with gloom, pertinacity, and a certain youthful brilliance that might well have carried the day, had not an Irishman got up and pointed out the danger hanging over the Old Testament.

To that he had retorted: "Better, sir, it should run a risk than have no risk to run." From which moment he was notable.
He stayed up four years, and went down with a sense of bewilderment and loss.

The matured verdict of Oxford on this child of hers, was "Eustace Miltoun! Ah! Queer bird! Will make his mark!" He had about this time an interview with his father which confirmed the impression each had formed of the other.

It took place in the library at Monkland Court, on a late November afternoon.
The light of eight candles in thin silver candlesticks, four on either side of the carved stone hearth, illumined that room.