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 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOK
 
 LONDON : 
 
 BOBSON AND SON, GEEAT NORTEEEN PRINTING WORKS, 
 
 PANGEAS EOAD, N.W.
 
 THE SECOND MS. TILLOTSOK 
 
 % Steg. 
 
 BY 
 
 PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A. F.S.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ^ " BELLA DOSNA," " NEVER FORGOTTEN," " JENNY EELl," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THKEE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 REPRINTED FROM " ALL THE YEAR ROUND." 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 TINSLEY BEOTHERS, 18 CATHEEINE ST. STRAND. 
 
 iS66. 
 
 IThe right 0} translation and reprodxiction is reserved,"]
 
 
 
 ^53 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EIGHT HONOUEABLE 
 
 THE VISCOUNTESS STRANGFORD.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. The Two Passengers i 
 
 II. The White Hart . . . . . .14 
 
 III. The Brown Room 24 
 
 IV. A Stormy Consultation 33 
 
 V. Ada Mil wood ♦ 4* 
 
 VI. Among the Tilneys 4^ 
 
 VII. The Cathedral 59 
 
 VIII. After the Dean's Sermon ■, . . . . "^o 
 IX. In the Dining-room 78 
 
 X. In the Drawing-room 89 
 
 XI. The Cricket . . . . . . .105 
 
 XII. St. Cecilia at the Organ . . . .120 
 
 XIII. An Ill-conditioned Man . . . .131 
 
 XIV. An Angry Walk Home . . . . . 143 
 XV. The Assizes 153 
 
 XVI. Ross V.Davis 164 
 
 XVII. The Verdict 186 
 
 XVIII. The Dean's Party 198 
 
 XIX. Darkness AGAIN aoj 
 
 §00k t^t ^uaixi:j. 
 
 I. " The Captain's" Nieces . . . .219 
 II, Mr. Tillotson " Goes Home" . . . .232
 
 Vlll CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 III. More about " the Captain" . . .241 
 
 IV. " The Captain's" New Menage . . .252 
 
 V. A New Interest 259 
 
 VI. The End of a Love 274 
 
 VII. Illness 288 
 
 VIII. An Expedition . . . . . .307
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON, 
 
 §00k ilji^ imt 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 
 
 This story, whose course shall lie along the open, 
 every-day thoroughfares of life, with the houses of 
 yesterday on each side, and the every-day men 
 and women hurrying along, begins at a very every- 
 day scene : at a railway station, with the train 
 setting off, and cabs arriving with marvellous 
 punctuality at precisely the last minute. In one 
 of these cabs, the gentleman who is to be the 
 hero, comes driving up very late — it was not his 
 fault, but that of a hopeless ^' block" in the City 
 — who, indeed, seems wholly indifferent as to 
 whether he '' had run it a little fine" (the en- 
 couragement- of the porter who had secured him 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 and " brought liim through"), or whether he should 
 have to wait two hours and more for another 
 train. It seemed all one to him, though the porter 
 at the door of the carriage, with assumed heat and 
 prostration, congratulated him on the success of 
 their exertions ; and saying once more that " it 
 was putting it a little too fine," was handsomely 
 requited for his exertions. 
 
 This evening train left Waterloo station at 
 " three thirty ;" and it was now three thirty-one. 
 Not being one of the " expresses" which were 
 always breaking away up and down the line, but 
 a sober, provincial old-fashioned train, which am- 
 bled on from station to station, it was treated by 
 the officials with the sort of unceremonious re- 
 spect they kept for old ladies with baskets, who 
 delayed them with questions. It was not kept 
 up to time very closely, nor very full. As it 
 " toddled" out of the station, there was indeed 
 seen, in one carriage or two, a row of hats and 
 heads bent down over a row of evening papers, 
 like a class at school ; but other compartments 
 glided by — some containing a prisoner or two, 
 some merely empty cells, and one with a lonely 
 gentleman all to himself, who had bought half-a- 
 dozen papers, which lay unfolded beside him on 
 the seat. 
 
 This gentleman had a white ticket for St. Alans
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 6 
 
 in a leathsr-bag beside him. He was about five- 
 and-tliirty — but looked more — was spare without 
 being thin, pale without being colourless, thought- 
 ful without looking a hermit or recluse, with a 
 half-dreamy air that was agreeable and not ab- 
 surd. The morocco-bag had initials on it, " J. ti. ;" 
 and inside the morocco-bag were note-books and 
 pocket-books, a volume of Boswell's Johnson, Avith 
 a name on the title-page, which was in a bold firm 
 hand, and read " Henry Graves Tillotson." 
 
 Henry Graves Tillotson looked quickly from 
 one window to the other as the ^^ dowdy" train 
 moved on, and jerked, and shook, over intersect- 
 ing rails, and glided by the huge rambling board- 
 ing-houses where engines ^^bait" or board, like, 
 great circuses, and the surgeries and hospitals 
 where they are taken in and have their wounds 
 dressed. He looked up at the men in the round 
 tops, half-way up great masts of trees, who, with 
 strange instruments and levers, exercised some 
 mysterious influence on his own motion. He 
 turned listlessly from side to side, and saw the 
 " backs" of factories, the storehouses and yards of 
 timber, which were "fining" off into rows of 
 houses, then again into rows of villas, and then 
 later into detached houses, until the trees and 
 green fields began to spread out and encroach 
 altogether. By which time the old lady who was
 
 4 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 carrying liim was "getting her stride," and hur- 
 rying along at a respectable pace. Then Mr. 
 Tillotson gave a sort of sigh, overcome perhaps 
 by this utter solitude. Yet he had selected this 
 lonely cell purposely. He looked over at his 
 evening papers absently, but did not take up a 
 single one to read. He cared very little for the 
 meeting of the emperors at Kirchwasser — or for 
 the actual text of the last " Note ;" or even for 
 the accident in Piccadilly '' This Day ;" which 
 were the leading items of telegraphic news. And 
 thus for some hours the stations came and went 
 one after the other, and their names were shouted, 
 and brought with them a dropping lire of doors. 
 
 Once, indeed, a young girl in "a hat," with 
 her mamma, were put in at a station. The mamma 
 had many packages and parcels — sets of novels 
 tied up with string — and seemed, indeed, to have 
 newly come from a fair, laden with merchandise. 
 She hardly spoke a word, but was anxiously count- 
 ing her treasures, and never getting her calcula- 
 tion right. 
 
 The young girl sat opposite to Mr. Tillotson, 
 and studied him with furtive eyes for the twenty 
 minutes between the two stations. After all, there 
 is a little romance in this sort of travelling — when 
 of a night in the blue chamber, under the dull 
 lamps, two or three companions come in and sit
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 
 
 for half-aii-hour, and we see their faces, and per- 
 haps talk with them and feel a sort of interest in 
 them, catching even a hint or glimpse of the far- 
 off drawing-room or fireside, to which the carriage 
 waiting in the dark at the foot of the steps, with 
 lamps flashing, Avill carry them. Then they are 
 gone, saying " Grood night," and before morning 
 we are a hundred miles away, and know it is all 
 but certain we shall never see them again. 
 
 This young girl talked over their tea-table of 
 the sad-looking gentleman who was with them in 
 the carriage. 
 
 " Such a soft, interesting face, papa," she said; 
 "just as if he had suffered a great deal. I am 
 sure he had just lost his wife." 
 
 "I never noticed him at all, dear," said her' 
 mamma. ISTo more she had. 
 
 " And sometimes I heard him sigh," the girl 
 went on. " And his eyes were so soft. I am sure 
 it was his wife, papa." 
 
 " Something wrong in trade," interjected papa, 
 from his newspaper. 
 
 " No, no," said she. " I am sure not tJiat 
 He had no bushy whiskers, or any thing of that 
 sort. 0, it was the most curiously/ interesting 
 face." 
 
 The young girl, who never met that face again, 
 was right. For in him there icas this strange ex-
 
 6 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 pression of interest wliicli attracted every one, 
 more or less. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson, who by some accident contrived 
 to keep liis privacy, was "visite" in due course, 
 and required to show his papers. This process 
 repeated itself until the darkness was well set in, 
 and the journey nearly done, and lamps flashed 
 into the carriage at a station about ten miles from 
 St. Alans. 
 
 There the door was opened, and some one 
 with a gilt-headed cane got in. This was a short 
 narrow gentleman, in a coat that seemed well 
 made, some thirty years ago, and a tall hat that 
 was fixed stiffly on his head ; and under the brim 
 of the hat Mr. Tillotson saw a very pink and 
 rugged Roman nose. Mr. Tillotson saw these 
 features, dismissed them from his mind, and re- 
 turned to Mr. Boswell, with whom he had begun 
 to converse absently when company came in. 
 
 The new gentleman seemed a little uneasy at 
 this behaviour, for he looked from one dark win- 
 dow-pane to the other, and danced his gilt-headed 
 stick up and down between his knees. He took 
 in Mr. Boswell resentfully, and at last spoke, lean- 
 ing over on his elbow on the cushion, as if reposing 
 on an ottoman : 
 
 " You have come down from town, I suppose ? 
 Any news up there when you left?"
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 7 
 
 Mr. Tillotson looked away absently from his 
 book, and said, " lie had not heard." He then 
 eagerly handed over his unopened bundle of 
 papers. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said the gentleman, feeling about 
 his waistcoat for something. " Evening papers, 
 I see. Did not bring my glasses. I find this sort 
 of light, you know, ruins the eyes. I never read 
 by it — never. When I was once quartered at 
 Walmer, lots of years ago now, I was left for a 
 week by myself without a soul, sir, to play piquet 
 with; and so I was driveyi in upon reading, and 
 that sort of thing, and read so hard, sir, that I 
 impaired my sight, sir — iyii-paired my sight. 
 That's always the way with young fellows. God 
 Almighty gives us these blessings without our 
 asking for 'em, and we go and abuse 'em. Going 
 onto St. Alans?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Tillotson. " We shall be there 
 soon, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Why, yes. Do you know, I'm going there 
 too. I live there — have lived there for many, 
 many years, and I suppose shall die there. Per- 
 haps they'll carry me out to a corner of the ca- 
 thedral, feet foremost. What we must all, all 
 come to, you know ! Dust upon dust. Clay, sir, 
 that a common fellow will turn up in the fields. 
 How fine all that is in the Service ! Yes, I sup-
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 pose they'll give me a bed there. I know the 
 dean very well — Lord Rooksby's brother." 
 
 "0, you know St. Alans well?" said Mr. 
 Tillotson, anxiously closing his book. 
 
 '' Yes ; I may say I am a St. Alans man. I 
 was a ^OT/here," he added, with a touch of feeling, 
 '^ what-d'3^e-call-'em'd it on the green, saw the 
 old cathedral every morning, and used to go reg'- 
 larly to the anthem. Ah ! we were all innocent 
 then, sir." 
 
 " And now," asked Mr. Tillotson, ^' is it a — a 
 stirring place — I mean as regards business?" 
 
 The gentleman smiled. '^ Well, I suppose it 
 is. Let us say it is. I always stand up for old 
 St. Alans. It's a deadly lively place ; but after 
 the hums and storms of life, of which I have seen 
 many, Dick Tilney, sir, loves it still. By the 
 way, my name is Tilney, sir. If you are a stranger 
 in old St. Alans, and coming to stay amongst us, 
 
 1 know the constitution of the place — have its 
 pulse, I may say, between my fingers." 
 
 '^ Thank you — thank you very much. I should, 
 indeed, like to know something about the place. 
 I have reasons — perhaps important ones." 
 
 " Quite right — 0, quite proper," said the other. 
 " Long, long ago, when I started in life, and was 
 fresher and perhaps more innocent than I am now 
 — though, God Almighty be thanked, I have never
 
 THE TWO PASSENGEKS. 9 
 
 lost the early implanted sort o' thing — at my 
 mother's knee, you know — I started as equerry to 
 H.E.H. the Dook of Clarence. You recollect, 
 the Sailor King and all that fine time, you know ! 
 One of the best of England's line. He always 
 said, ' I like a man with reasons, and that can give 
 his reasons.' " 
 
 " I shall be here, I suppose, for a week," said 
 Mr. Tillotson, " and then—" 
 
 "Quite right — 0, quite proper," said the 
 other, making his cane dance. "You will go to the 
 White Hart, of course — an old gentlemanly house, 
 and, let me tell you, that is something in these 
 days of bagmen and snobs. As I have often told 
 Chinnery — my second cousin, the Right Honour- 
 able Baron Chinnery of Chinnery, and all that — 
 God help us, we don't set up to be swells ; for be 
 a man an innkeeper, or be he an ostler, or be he a 
 counter-fellow, or be he a — a — " And hesitating 
 here, having exhausted his illustrations, he happily 
 added, " a any thing you like ; if he behaves like 
 a gentleman before his fellows, he becomes one, 
 and the noblest work of our common Creator. 
 That's the religion I was brought up in ! I have 
 been in St. Alans for ten years now, come weal, 
 come woe," he went on. " I was a boy there, and 
 came back like the hare. I suppose I shall die 
 there. They'll stow me away in the cathedral
 
 10 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 somewhere. They're always glad to get a gentle- 
 man. I keep my family there too, sir — wife and 
 daughters — pleasant house, good air. No state — 
 none in tlie world. You know where the White 
 Hart is ? Not very far from the bank." 
 
 "Yes," cried Mr. Tillotson, a little eagerly, 
 "I have heard of that. Not doing much, I be- 
 lieve ? They are old-fashioned and behind the 
 time. They want working up to the new prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 " No doubt — no doubt," said the other, " New 
 or old, my dear sir, it's all one to me. I am 
 ashamed to say I am genteel enough oiever to 
 have had a balance any where. Can't do it — 
 and can't go about it." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was presently asking many ques- 
 tions about the men of the place and local matters, 
 and whether it was going back or " coming on," 
 and got curious parti-coloured answers, contain- 
 ing a little of the information he wanted, but all 
 mottled over with references to old days and fine 
 society, and to the late William the Fom^th when 
 Dook of Clarence. " Tickets here," he said, in- 
 terrupting himself. " This is St. Alans. You 
 take a machine here, put the traps on the top, 
 and bowl away to the town. Here, George, see 
 to this gentleman's things." And in a moment 
 he was on the platform, stepping here and there
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 11 
 
 with a slight "stiffness," — and Mr. Tillotson saw 
 this from the narrow back and long limbs — and 
 switching the air with his gold-headed cane. 
 " I'll ask you for a seat," said he, " down to the 
 town. These limbs of mine are a little tired, as 
 all limbs are and should be at my stage of life. 
 White Hart, driver !" 
 
 It was the ancient old-fashioned English coun- 
 try and county town, in which someway the gaudy 
 host of grocers' shops seem to thrive most and be 
 most conspicuous, and books to have only a feeble, 
 languid, unhealthy existence. 
 
 " You find us," said Mr. Tilney, as they came 
 down a by-street, " rather in undress. The roughs 
 here must have their politics. The Law — the 
 Law, sir" — and Mr. Tilney raised his hat as if 
 he were mentioning a sacred name — " the Law 
 has its hold upon us now. The majesty of our 
 constitution — which, if you compare it with that 
 of France, Italy, or any other tropical country 
 — under the blessings of which we live, is about to 
 be vindicated. Rich and poor, poor and rich, are 
 all one there. The assizes, sir, will be on in a 
 week or so. The grand inquest will be sworn 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " 0, indeed !" said Mr. Tillotson, absently. 
 
 " I hnow it," said Mr. Tilney, as if this ab- 
 straction implied doubt. " I had it from Wagstaff,
 
 12 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 tlie clerk. And a heavy calendar; some heavy 
 cases; and one of extraordinary interest, most 
 singular, in which young Filby, quartered here, 
 and, I am told^ a second cousin to Lady Frog- 
 more, is mixed up. It will be taken second or 
 third. Then there is another — " 
 
 '^And what was this afFair?" asked Mr. Til- 
 lotson, bound to show some curiosity. 
 
 " 0, foolish, foolish ! Coming home from the 
 races on a mail phaeton, these young fellows, who, 
 I happen to hioic^ are connected with really some 
 of the best houses in the county, began to throw 
 orange-j)eel about — some say oranges. A grocer, 
 in a small way, and called Duckett, is at his door, 
 and is hit or splashed. Well, now, instead of 
 doing as you or I would, going quietly back to 
 om' shops, to our scales and beams, and tea, 
 and that sort of line, Duckett must go and blus- 
 ter, and naturally young Filby, who is a high- 
 spirited boy (his father, between you and me, 
 went off with a maid of honour, all the papers 
 full of it, but with stars, you know), and the 
 others, of course, give it to him : and the result 
 is, he gets it." 
 
 " And he brings an action ?" 
 
 " And he brings an action. Quite right," 
 said Mr. Tilney. " Our wild relation, Eoss, 
 harum-scarum fellow, mixed up in it too, who,
 
 THE TWO PASSENGERS. 13 
 
 by the way, has his hands full enough. Here we 
 are. I'll tell you all about that further on. All 
 about it ! Remind me, though." 
 
 ^' You must take us as you find us," continued 
 Mr. Tilney, apologising for the town. " We shall 
 do better by and by. I am not ashamed to identify 
 myself with a rising place of this sort. Ah, town 
 is really my place ! Town air suits my lungs ; 
 but I believe in poor old St. Alans ; with all its 
 faults I love it still ! Here we are. White Hart. 
 A very good house. Where's Hiscoke ?"
 
 CHAPTEK 11. 
 
 THE WHITE HART. 
 
 The White Hart was a great old inn, with good 
 connections on all sides. It had a healthy old age, 
 and, until the fatal day when a modern Grand 
 Railway Hotel was to burst into life, would stride 
 on healthily ; just as there are old men the ad- 
 miration of their friends for their spirit, and who 
 are always described as " hale old men." But one 
 day the hale old man falls in suddenly, and shrinks 
 up like a rotten apple. This inn had some architec- 
 tural ambition, had great rooms, where the grand- 
 father of the present Lord Rooksby had danced 
 with his contemporaries, and where the same 
 nobleman had dined riotously and held his election 
 committees ; where, too, as the Honourable Mr. 
 Ridley, he " fought the battle of the Tories for seven 
 days !" Now, the present Lord Rooksby always 
 went up to London to dine, " put in" his son, the 
 young Hon. Ridley, in a morning, without ex- 
 pense, had no generous feeling arising out of the 
 past for the White Hart, and fought no battles for
 
 THE WHITE HART. 15 
 
 Tories, or any one, indeed, but for himself only 
 and for his family. 
 
 When Hiscoke had been found and solemnly 
 charged to take all care of the stranger, Mr. 
 Tillotson asked, hesitatingly, if he would stay and 
 take share of the dinner. Mr. Tilney consented 
 heartily, and was even good enough to order it, 
 taking care that it should be a sort of special din- 
 ner in a special room, and with special wine, which 
 he looked after, — with special charges, perhaps, 
 which he did not look after. The special wine, 
 which came up all powdered with sawdust, and 
 was carried tenderly, like a fire-arm that might 
 " go off" at any second, mounted softly into Mr. 
 Tilney's cheeks and Roman features, and coloured 
 them finely. Under the light, now that the stiff 
 hat was off, Mr. Tillotson saw that he was a 
 " yomigish" sexagenarian, with very thin hair, 
 and a blue tie speckled over with " pigeon's 
 eggs," and that his manner, though in company 
 with some oddities, was that of a gentleman. He 
 was pleasant company, and kept up an animated, 
 if not conversation, at least commentary, on life 
 generally — for really that only bomided the range 
 of his subjects. 
 
 " After all, one's own fireside," continued Mr. 
 Tilney, " what is there comes near that ? You 
 try the one thing and you try t' other thing —
 
 16 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 the courts and the camps and the what-d'ye- 
 call-'ems — and you come back to it. I am no 
 saint, and, thank Grod, have never set up to bo 
 one ; but Home, and the smiling affairs, eh ? — 
 that is the true charm. You put yourself into 
 that evening train at the call of business, and I 
 daresay were looking back at every station — I 
 don't wonder — a cold night in a railway carriage 
 — after the cheerful hearth and the bright faces ? 
 Come now?" 
 
 Something like a twitch passed over Mr. Til- 
 lotson's face. " I am sorry," he said sadly, " that 
 such a pleasant picture has no existence for me. I 
 have left a fireside indeed behind me, but it is a 
 solitary, 7nise7^ahle one, and to that I must retm^n. 
 I have never been married, and see nothing to 
 tempt me ever to marry." 
 
 " I heg your pardon. 0, I do, indeed, from 
 my soul," said the other, making a glass of the 
 brown sherry return back to the table when half 
 way on its journey. '^ I did not mean to touch 
 on any thing sore. I did not, indeed. No, no, 
 God forbid." 
 
 ^' No, no ; of course not," said Mr. Tillotson, 
 sadly. " Naturally, how could you know ?" 
 
 " There it is !" said Mr. Tilney. " Naturally, 
 how shoidd I know? But I ought to have known. 
 Bless me, twenty years ago, Avhen I was with
 
 THE WHITE HART. 17 
 
 Macgregor and Foley and Billy the Middy, as 
 we called him — that is, his late Majesty King 
 William — they would have taught me better than 
 that. Foley, who was major under Paget Daw- 
 son, said often and often, ' Dammy, sir, assume 
 that every man has done something to be ashamed 
 of. Assume that in every boot there's a corn, 
 sir.' " 
 
 But from the date of this discovery of his com- 
 panion's celibacy Mr. Tilney began to look at his 
 neighbour as if quite another Mr. Tillotson had 
 come to sit down there and was entertaining him 
 with the brown sherry. His manner became softer 
 and more deferential, and he checked his own ten- 
 dencies to soliloquy to a surprising degree. 
 
 " But if you talk of rubs and trials," he went 
 on, '' we all catch them. Not a doubt of it. Man 
 never can, but always must be, blest — fine line 
 that ! God knows I have had my share — struggle, 
 struggle, struggle, toil and trouble, from that 
 high," and he put his hand on the seat of a chair 
 beside him. " The very year his Majesty, formerly 
 the Sailor Dook, died, they got me a little place 
 about the palace, a trifling thing ; and what d'ye 
 think, before he was a year gone, they took it 
 from me — abolished it, sir ! — was that^ I ask you, 
 dishonouring his remains ! And the dean up there 
 will tell you in his pulpit this is all good for us ! 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Pooh ! Sir, at this moment I might have my hand 
 on the banisters of the palace stairs — I might be 
 sitting in my purple and linen, with the rest of 
 them, instead of," he added bitterly, " fighting the 
 battle of life, sir, in a damned hole-and-corner 
 place like this !" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson answered him gently and impas- 
 sionately. 
 
 " We have all to bear these things — all. If 
 it is any comfort to you, you may know that there 
 are many whose miseries are greater, and who 
 would — how joyfully ! — welcome the disappoint- 
 ments of money, and place, and prosperity, in 
 the room of mere agonies of mind and conscience. 
 Compared with such," he went on, earnestly, 
 " believe me, you are supremely happy. You 
 have your family, your children. You have not 
 your fireside crowded with black shadows — the 
 haunting spectres of the past — that drive you 
 to seek in business and occupation some sort of 
 distraction, but which icill pursue you wherever 
 you go. Ah, think what is a little place abolished 
 beside this !" 
 
 Mr. Tilney filled his glass again. 
 
 '^ You put it excellently, my dear sir, and really 
 with great feeling. As you say, what is a j)lace ? — 
 ah ! it is the shock, the wound, the ivoitnd, sir. 
 After years of devotion to be cut adrift. It was the
 
 THE WHITE HART. 19 
 
 unkiiidness — sometimes of nights it comes on me 
 — -just as you describe — at the foot of the bed. 
 Ah, had I courted my Maker, Tillotson, with one 
 three-quarters of the devotion with which I courted 
 my king, he — he" (he paused to recover the 
 quotation) — " he wouldn't have — treated me in 
 this sort of way. ISTo, no, not he." After a pause, 
 " You spoke of business, I think ?" Then Mr. 
 Tihiey, well back in his chair, with his armpits 
 over the knobs, said, frankly, '^ Now, what can we 
 do for you? I should be glad to tell you any 
 thing and every thing." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson then disclosed the object of his 
 coming down to that decaying country town. 
 " I daresay you have seen in the Times the Fon- 
 cier Capital Company. They are doing wonder- 
 fully, and spreading their business. They want 
 to work up the country districts. I myself am 
 a director, and very deep in it, as they call it. 
 In short, we are 2;oino; to have a branch here. 
 Tliere is no need to make a mystery or secret 
 about it, and so I tell you. We are determined 
 to make the experiment, at all events. What do 
 you think of the prospect ?" 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Tilney, filling out some 
 sherry, '' I know nothing about rate of interest, 
 exchange, and that class of thing — I say it above- 
 board — and as to banks, I know the brass shovels
 
 20 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 by sight, perhaps, and ah ! ' How will you have 
 it ?' — eh ? It's a happy moment, always, getting 
 a spadeful of guineas. Money is one of God 
 Almighty's blessings, let 'em preach against it who 
 like. I have heard Ridley, the dean, harangue 
 against it like a fury, and it's notorious, sir, the 
 man's as great a miser as there's in the clergy- 
 list. I don't call that religion. Ask me about 
 men and women — ask me about the mere rude 
 details — human nature — life from the palace to 
 the cottage — I'm at home there. And let me 
 add, Mr. Tillotson, that a man, a gentleman — 
 who says his prayers every morning, and who 
 has walked over the kingdom with his eyes open, 
 or without doing any — well — any confoimded 
 sneaking dirty action, is a scholar in his way, and 
 as learned as any of their D.D.'s up at the Close 
 there. Uncommon good this : Hiscoke is note- 
 orious for his brown particular." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson felt all throuMi that there was a 
 sound truth in this philosophy, and picked up short 
 sketches, points, and features about the more pro- 
 minent persons of the place, which were useful for 
 his purpose. 
 
 It was now about nine o'clock. Mr. Tilney 
 was growing very communicative, and seemed to 
 punctuate his sentences with sips of brown sherry. 
 He always spoke of this drink so mictuously, and
 
 THE WHITE HART. 21 
 
 with sucli flavour as combining strength and cor- 
 dial and restoring power, that a rich mahogany 
 seemed to glow before his hearers' eyes, and they 
 moved their tongues uneasily. People were known 
 to go and order brown sherry after an interview 
 with him. 
 
 '' I am very glad you are come," continued he, 
 his arm still on the round knobs — "very glad. 
 I hope you will stay. We should all like to know 
 you. Between ourselves, this is a stifling place for 
 a man who has clattered through life as I have, 
 and sat and drank with the best. It is a great 
 change, you know, after all, and comes hard, devil- 
 ish hard, upon a man, sir, who is accustomed to 
 his bow-window and his newspaper, and his cut 
 of club -mutton, and his two fingers from a royal 
 dook, with a ' How d'ye do, Tilney?' as regular 
 as a mutton-chop at breakfast. One of these days 
 I'll show you a letter from that quarter ; a letter, 
 by Jupiter, that I might have written to you, or 
 you to me. But what was I goin' to say ? If a man 
 has been used in a gentlemanly way through life, 
 and has been met in a gentlemanly way by a mer- 
 ciful Creator, it don't become us, sir, to cut up and 
 grumble, and be ungrateful at the end. I tell you 
 what," said Mr. Tilney, prying curiously into the 
 now empty decanter, and feeling that he must 
 forego more of that cordial — " I tell you what :
 
 22 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 will you come up to my shop and take your tea 
 with my girls, up at the Close ? If you will do 
 me that honour, I shall be exceedingly happy. 
 We are in a sort of modest happy-go-lucky way. 
 We don't aim at style or expense, because, as I 
 can tell you, from the ve-ry bottom of my heart, 
 not one of us cares for that sort of thing — not 
 one. We do our little all to fit ourselves to the 
 lot Providence has cast us for. I have only the 
 girls in the world, and their mother. Do come, 
 Tillotson. Don't stand on ceremony; and I tell 
 you, you will make them happy — all happy. You 
 will indeed." 
 
 Mr. Tilney urged this point with much per- 
 sistence. Indeed, Mr. Tilney had an absorbing, 
 overpowering manner, a genteel heartiness that 
 would take no denial, and a social paternity that 
 he put on with men. He had even an agricultural 
 impetuosity ; but it was an agricultural affection 
 tempered by the politer affection of drawing-rooms. 
 After a friendship of two or three, hours' duration, 
 Mr. Tilney always found his way to a new friend's 
 arm ; and as he was elderly, and previously had 
 mainly been talking of life and mortality, this action 
 fell in quite easily and almost gracefully. But he 
 could not prevail with his friend, who shrank 
 away from company.
 
 THE WHITE HART. 23 
 
 " Well, then, a stroll. Come now. A little 
 walk to show you the place ?" 
 
 What with the strong fiery wine of the White 
 Hart, which age had not tempered, and which had 
 maintained tlie old strength and stimulated the 
 fox-hunting gentry of the real old times, and the 
 low rooms, which were slightly " stuffy," and his 
 journey, Mr. Tillotson felt a headache, and weary. 
 When, therefore, a gentleman in velveteen, with a 
 whip-handle in one pocket, and heavy buff club- 
 shaped legs, dropped in, and shouted with delight 
 at seeing Mr. Tilney, saying, " I have heard all 
 about the 'orse," Mr. Tillotson got up, and said 
 he would walk a little outside. 
 
 " Do, do," said the other with fervour. " I'll 
 not be long — not longer than this," he said, tap- 
 ping the decanter. " The night-air is beautiful. 
 Go on quietly towards the cathedral, — any one 
 will tell you the way, — and I'll be after you."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BROWN ROOM. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson went out slowly. The niglit-air 
 was pleasant enough, and in the direction which 
 he took all was veiy quiet. He went on slowly 
 through some narrow streets, and he did not care 
 to ask the way, as he had been directed ; for every 
 now and again he had a glimpse of a gigantic 
 signal before him which solemnly showed him 
 the road — the huge cathedral spire; and behind 
 the base of one of the great long windows was a 
 faint light, where workmen were busy — -just as 
 though it were a lantern held out to him from a 
 distance. Through some narrow old streets he 
 went slowly towards it, until he suddenly heard 
 voices, and noise, and confusion ! and round the 
 next corner he came upon a scuffle — with hats 
 tumbling along the road, a scramble, and scraping 
 of shoes, and three young men struggling with 
 another, who was in the midst of them, with his 
 coat torn from his back. 
 
 ^^ Give it to him!" " Serve him right !" ^^ Low
 
 THE BKOWN ROOM. 25 
 
 beggar!" " Good lesson !" " Hit him hard, Filby !" 
 '' Screw his eyes out !" 
 
 One of the young gentlemen had a light cane, 
 and was scourging the victim soundly. The others 
 seemed to be kicking him where they could. Some 
 women stood with their babies at the doors, and 
 one called out for help feebly. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson paused a moment. He saw that 
 this was more than a street scuffle ; and, without 
 pausing a moment, he Avalked up quietly to them, 
 was flung aside by the momentum of the battle, 
 but in a second had dragged away the single vic- 
 tim from his persecutors. There was nothing of 
 the splendid rescuer in what he did ; he had the 
 advantage which the fresh unengaged combatant 
 who has seen and measured the crisis from a dis- 
 tance always has. 
 
 According to the usual formula, they stood 
 panting a moment, then turned on him. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson said, quietly, " Three upon one ! 
 Surely you are Englishmen, and can give English- 
 men fair play ?" 
 
 ^^He deserves it, and morel" said one of the 
 combatants, a little excitedly. "A wretched spy 
 of a grocer ! He's not had half enough !" 
 
 " I'll have the law of you all," said the victim, 
 a little round man, adjusting his torn coat. " I 
 know your names: you, Eilby, and you, Koss.
 
 26 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Mind, when I get you before the jury, see if I 
 don't—" 
 
 Suddenly one of the most inflamed of the three 
 burst out : 
 
 " And are you going to let this bagman inter- 
 fere with you? CotifoTind you, you impertinent 
 counter-jumper, what do you mean by meddling 
 with gentlemen ? I'll give you a lesson, if they 
 won't." 
 
 He sj)rang round actively to the other side of 
 Mr. Tillotson with a light cane raised. But in an 
 instant the hght cane was twisted out of his hand, 
 and was broken in two by a smart blow, which 
 Mr. Tillotson meant for his shoulder, but which 
 fell upon his cheek. 
 
 " There, there," said his friends, '^ that's 
 enough. Let the grocer go, and have done with 
 him. Come home to barracks." 
 
 The last combatant had his hand up to liis 
 cheek to hide something, and seemed quite routed. 
 Mr. Tillotson saw something like blood through 
 his fingers. 
 
 " You are not much hurt," he said. '' I did 
 
 " Curse you, you did though !" said the other. 
 " You aimed at my face, like a shabby sneaking 
 fellow — Don't hold me, I tell you I Where is he ? 
 Let me go at him !"
 
 THE BROWN EOOM. 27 
 
 "Come away, cloj now. That grocer has gone 
 for a watchman. Come." And the friends, in 
 spite of all his struggling, took him each by an 
 arm and hurried him off. 
 
 Mi\ Tillotson looked after them a moment. 
 " This is just hfe with me," he thought bitterly — 
 "life all over. I look for peace, and never can 
 find it. Even in a wretched place like this, at the 
 back of God speed, in a wretched street, I am 
 dragged into a mean scuffle of this sort. A low 
 street row, above all! That old vile enemy will 
 come up — will haunt me. Though they talk of 
 crushing out our wicked tempers — Heaven help 
 me ! — ^talk of subjugating the will, taming our 
 earthly passions, and of being dead to the world ! 
 What a comic instance am I of this training for 
 years !" And he almost laughed within himself. 
 
 He heard a cheerful step behind him, and saw 
 Mr. Tilney coming up in the moonlight, with his 
 stick swinging round like a Catherine- wheel. 
 
 " God bless me !" he said, " what an eye for 
 geography you have ! Now that's just like Tom 
 Ventnor, who w^as always hanging about the pa- 
 lace wanting a ^ stole,' or a gentleman-at-arms, or, 
 in fact, any thing they would give him. Tom 
 Ventnor all the world over ! Put Tom down in 
 Paris or Dresden, Stafford or Gloucester, or Ber- 
 lin, or New York, or Vienna, or — or — Colney
 
 28 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Hatch," added Mr. Tilney, embarrassed by having 
 got to the end of all the capitals he recollected, 
 " and he could walk about any where, any where." 
 
 They walked on through the town. The gro- 
 cers' shops were still in splendour. They passed 
 an open market-place, where there was a statue in 
 a frock-coat. " One of England's gentlemen," 
 said Mr. Tilney, stopping to wave his stick at 
 him as if he was making an incantation, '' who 
 lived as he died ! That man, to my knowledge, 
 never did a dirty action. It was one of the most 
 pleasing ceremonies I ever saw in the whole course 
 of my life when Lord Monboddo laid the first stone. 
 Eidley, the dean, behaved like a gentleman for 
 once in his life, and prayed over the bronze in 
 good style. Chinnery, my cousin, came down 
 here for it — all the Avay from Chinnery." 
 
 Then they got imder a gateway, and entered 
 on a soft quiet common, fringed about on one side 
 with ancient detached houses of brick and stone, 
 and of different heights ; while on the other rose 
 the cathedral, tall, firm, solid, like a rock out of 
 the sea. The grass was between. 
 
 ^' There it is," said Mr. Tilney, flourishing 
 with his stick. " I have forgotten all my poetry 
 and Georgics, though I luas brought up at Eugby, 
 with Stamer and Hodgson, and the rest. Ah ! it 
 sticks to me yet, sir, to see that. It is a fine thing,
 
 THE BROWN ROOM. 29 
 
 and a noble thing ; and it speaks to me. Who is 
 the fellow that says that a nigger — a common nigger 
 that you see with wool like a bit of ticking stuck 
 on his head — is th' Almighty's image cut out of 
 a lump o' coal ? Grand, that. Well, that build- 
 ing, sir, seems to me th' Almighty's image cut out 
 of pure Portland or Scotch stone — I'm not sure 
 which. I should be ashamed if my whole heart 
 had got so seared and knocked about, if it hadn't 
 a corner left for a grand thought like that !" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson actually heard his voice quaver 
 and tremble a little. Could he have seen Mr. 
 Tilney's face, he would have noticed that his eyes 
 were really moistened. Indeed, after brown sherry, 
 his friends always noticed this tendency to topics 
 of sensibility. 
 
 They were now back at the hotel. " Well, 
 here we are," said Mr. Tilney. " This is the way 
 we come and go. Wait ; I'll go in and see what 
 they have done with you. Where have you put 
 Mr. Tillotson, James?" 
 
 " In the Bro^Aai Room, sir. There's a fire 
 lighting there." 
 
 "Ah, dear, dear! So it is I Old Sir John 
 Mackintosh, he slej)t there. (She was one of the 
 finest women, Tillotson, that you would pick out. 
 You couldn't go beyond her !) I know the road, 
 Tillotson. This way."
 
 30 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 They went up through many passages, till they 
 got to this large but low square room, with faded 
 paper, and a faded red-cushioned bedstead, with 
 limp curtains fast drawn, which nodded when any 
 one walked across the room. It seemed as stately 
 as the Baldequino in St. Peter's at Rome. Mr. 
 Tilney got his legs across a chair in a riding 
 attitude, yet without any intention of moving. 
 Suddenly he started. " My goodness, I declare, 
 so it is ! The very room. Wonderful indeed. 
 There's not a sparrow falls, you know. Just ring 
 and ask the waiter if I am not right." 
 
 " How do you mean ?" said Mr. Tillotson, 
 wearily. 
 
 '' My dear friend," said Mr. Tilney, getting 
 off his horse, ^' how curious ! This is the very 
 chamber where Tom Major shot old General 
 Macarthy, at one o'clock in the morning — just 
 as I might crack this lump of coal here." 
 
 Mr. Tilney was seeking this reminiscence in 
 the coals with such infinite relish, that he did not 
 see that this sudden piece of news made Mr. Til- 
 lotson fall back against the curtains of the bed as 
 if he had been stricken ; neither did he hear his 
 murmured " Great Heaven !" 
 
 '' Tliis very room," he went on, beating the 
 coals abstractedly, " I was brought in when a 
 mere lad, the very morning after. And they
 
 THE BROWN ROOM. 31 
 
 had the poor old general on a bed. But, mind 
 you, brought it all on himself — couldn't command 
 himself; and Tom, who belonged to one of the 
 best families, could not well pass it over. Tom 
 got away to Boulogne in time. Dear me ! Til- 
 lotson, my dear friend, I beg your pardon ; I do 
 indeed. I forgot. Traveller, and all that. You 
 look pulled down someway. We must get up 
 flesh here — and here. There is One above 
 who gives and who takes away! Heaven, in 
 its infinite bounty, bless you ! After all, we 
 have every reason to be thankful when we think 
 of—" 
 
 "With this he at last took his leave, and went 
 away. As soon as he had gone, Mr. Tillotson, as 
 it were shrinking away from the room, rang for 
 the waiter. " Light a fire," he said, " in another 
 room." 
 
 With amazement the waiter mm'mured, " But 
 this is the Brown Room, sir. Lord Llanberis, sir, 
 always — " 
 
 " I don't care," said Mr. Tillotson impatiently. 
 '' Get me a smaller room — one lower down, and 
 not so lonely." 
 
 " But the fire, sir ; the housemaids are gone to 
 bed." 
 
 " Never mind the fire." 
 
 The waiter went to get ready another room,
 
 32 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 murmuring to himself that this was a queer, " ill- 
 edicated ^ feller,' " and in a short time had a 
 smaller mouldy apartment, with also a catafalque 
 bed, quite ready ; and there Mr. Tillotson slept a 
 troubled sleep.
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 A STORMY CONSULTATION. 
 
 On the following morning, when the sun was well 
 up and making the little town glitter in all its 
 points and angles, and when the boots was telling 
 the chambermaid, with whom he was most inti- 
 mate, how the ''gent," who was above, " 'ad been 
 turning up his nose" at the best room in " the 
 'ouse," Mr. Tilney came " swinging" in, bright as 
 the very mornino; itself. He found that his friend 
 had o'one out some time, but w^as to be back shortly. 
 
 " Never mind," said Mr. Tilney, plaintively, 
 as if to deprecate their sending out an immediate 
 express; "now don't. I can wait here quite as 
 well. Here is a paper, and I shall get on very 
 comfortably." 
 
 So he did, for he presently found that a '' little 
 soda" with a glass of sherry '' through it," would 
 be " no harm," as he put it; and thus assisted, he 
 did not find the moments tedious. 
 
 When Mr. Tillotson came he seized on him 
 with alacrity. He must come off at once. But 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson had letters, and business. ^' Look 
 here," he said gently, showing him accounts, 
 figures, &c. ; "all this to be got through. Would 
 later suit you ?" 
 
 It was agreed, then, that about four o'clock 
 Mr. Tilney should come again, seize on his friend, 
 and bear him off to visit the Tilney family. And 
 at four he did come, and Mr. Tillotson wearily let 
 himself be led away. 
 
 "This is our little nook," said Mr. Tilney, 
 stopping to open a wooden gate. " Nothing very 
 pretentious, you see." It was an old gray stone 
 house of two stories high, with the centre portion 
 projecting beyond the rest. The windows were 
 open, and sounds of voices came from w^ithin. 
 But Mr. Tillotson drew back. " It seems there 
 are people here, and I really am not — " But 
 Mr. Tilney had on his overpowering agricultural 
 manner in a moment. He bore down every thing, 
 and swept him in w^ith cries as his prototype would 
 have done sheep. The other submitted, though his 
 heart sank at the notion of society. 
 
 There was a little glass hall in front of the 
 hall-door, with seats and a few plants. The hall- 
 door was always open. As they entered, Mr. Til- 
 ney himself drew back mysteriously. ' ' I declare, ' ' 
 he said, " I don't know that voice." 
 
 There was a faded lady and two daughters
 
 A STORMY CONSULTATION. 35 
 
 and two gentlemen sitting there. The gentleman 
 whose voice Mr. Tilney did not know was still 
 speaking, nor did he stop when they entered. He 
 was a sharj), clean - looking, tall man, with black 
 hair, cut close, and coming down on his forehead 
 like the skullcap of Leo the Tenth. He continued 
 noisily : 
 
 '^ The whole thing is outrageous. I come 
 down here by appointment, and Mr. Dawkins here 
 comes down here by appointment, and — you see ! 
 His own interests are at stake, our interests are at 
 stake. But he does not care. It is weak, immoral 
 — grossly immoral — and," he added, " clinching" 
 tlie matter, ^' grossly unbusinesslike." 
 
 Mr. Dawkins repeated (baling out water be- 
 tween his knees with his hat) that it was grossly 
 imbusinesslike. 
 
 Mrs. Tilney now spoke, as if introducing to 
 her husband : 
 
 '^ Mr. Cater, Wilham Ross's solicitor; and Mr. 
 Dawkins" — but Mr. Tillotson himself was passed 
 over, so absorbed were they all. 
 
 " Solicitor to the plaintiff, in the ejectment, sir. 
 Gome here by appointment," said Mr. Dawkins. 
 
 " Our time is very valuable," said Mr. Cater. 
 " But there are people who do not seem to think so." 
 
 " Ah, to be sure," said Mr. Tilney, in a loud 
 voice. ^^And where is Ross? Has he been
 
 3() THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 found ? Has he been sent for ? Let him be 
 sought for round the town." 
 
 " We have thouglit of that long ago," said 
 Mrs. Tilney, languidly. " Tliese gentlemen have 
 been here nearly an hour, and — won't take any 
 wine or any thing." 
 
 ^^ I am afraid, do you know," said Mr. Tibiey 
 gravely, " he is at this moment with some of 
 the set from the barracks. Some of them fine 
 young fellows enough, but free, you know. I am 
 told that young Bundoran, Lord Skibbereen's se- 
 cond son, who really being in decent society and 
 having opportunities — " 
 
 "I come down here," said Mr. Cater, in a 
 loud voice, " at great personal inconvenience ; so 
 does Mr. Dawkins. It is very strange conduct, 
 very. I was led into the suit by misrepresenta- 
 tion. I pursued it with but one view — that of a 
 fair and profitable compromise. The other side 
 offers that now; and yet this wrongheaded, this 
 insane young man, declines. But I shall insist 
 on it," added Mr. Cater, with great heat. 
 
 '^ We shall be beaten like hacks if we go on," 
 said his colleague. 
 
 Durino; this discussion Mr. Tillotson, standino; 
 irresolutely at the door, turned several times to 
 go, but was firmly restrained by the hand of Mr. 
 Tilney being laid upon his arm in a mysterious
 
 A STOEMY CONSULTATION. 37 
 
 and meaning manner. Now he spoke, and to 
 Mrs. Tilney. 
 
 '' I am afraid," he said, " I am hstening to 
 matters of private interest — very nnv/illingly, I 
 assure you. Mr. Tihiey v^as kind enough to ask 
 me up, but I can come another time." 
 
 The two young ladies, who had, indeed, been 
 taking note of the strange gentleman, whom only 
 the warmth of the discussion prevented their rising 
 and welcoming, said, with expostulation, " Mam- 
 ma ! 0!" 
 
 " Mr. Tillotson, my dear," said Mr. Tilney, 
 hastily introducing him. ^' Sit down there, next 
 to Mrs. Tilney." 
 
 " I shall withdraw from the thing," went on 
 the solicitor; ^'my mind is made up — unless 
 terms are come to ; such handsome terms offered, 
 too. Why, it's next to insanity ! It is in- 
 sanity !" 
 
 "You 'may say that," said Mr. Tilney, shaking 
 his head. " Why, I recollect when one of the 
 Dook's own tradesmen — a saddler fellow — sent in 
 his bill, why, I declare" — here Mr. Tilney inter- 
 rupted himself, and put the hollow of his hand 
 to his ear with great caution, as if it were a sea- 
 shell — "there he is. I know his step. Yes; 
 it's Ross." 
 
 " Ah, well," said the solicitor, half satisfied,
 
 38 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " this is something better. But if he don't 
 settle—" 
 
 The door was opened sharply, and a young 
 man entered roughly ; a young man with great 
 tossed brown hair, and a nose with a very high 
 strong ridge, and an angry, if not habitually 
 sulky, expression. He had his hand up to the side 
 of his cheek, and he stood with his other hand 
 on the door, looking round on the crowd of 
 people. 
 
 ^'Well," he said, "what is all this conventicle? 
 What's to do ? So you've come down, Cater ? — and 
 Dawkins too ! I told you you might come if you 
 liked, but it's no use." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was looking at him earnestly ; 
 so earnestly, that the young man took notice of 
 him, then started a little, and fixed a dogged 
 defiant challenging look on him. Mr. Tilney 
 strode up hastily. 
 
 " Let me introduce. Old Sam Lefevre alwaj-s 
 said, ' In God's name, let us know our company, 
 and have done with it.' Mr. Tillotson, Mi\ Ross. 
 God bless me, Ross, my boy, what's wrong with 
 your cheek?" 
 
 " What's wrong I" said the other angrily, put- 
 ting down his hand. " Who said there was any 
 thing wrong? There, look, all of you! A great 
 sight, isn't it? I suppose a man can fall down
 
 A STORMY CONSULTATION. 39 
 
 and cut himself, or a boy in tlie street throw a 
 stone ? Ah, but if I catch that boy again, won't 
 I scourge him !" 
 
 ^^ Good heavens I" cried the girls, ^^what is 
 it? You are dreadfully hurt!" And indeed he 
 appeared to be, for there was a great purple line 
 running along his cheek up to his ear. 
 
 He gave them a look of anger. '' Never mind 
 me," he said ; " isn't there business going on 
 here ? What are women doing here ? Just leave 
 us alone. That's all." 
 
 " I am sorry," said the solicitor, '^ but we must 
 go into this at once. As I wrote to you, a com- 
 promise is offered in your case, now ripe for trial 
 at the present assizes. Mr. Bacon was with me 
 this morning. He offers to share the lands in 
 dispute ; that will give over a thousand a -year 
 to each party. What on earth drives them to 
 propose such a thing, I cannot conceive. They 
 must be mad ! Mr. Paget, our junior, thinks so 
 too. We have not a stick or a leg to go upon." 
 
 '' That was what Mr. Paget said in our office ; 
 his very words," added Mr. Dawkins. 
 
 ^^ ! of course we'll settle ?" asked Mr. Cater, 
 a little nervously. 
 
 "0, of course,^ ^ said Mr. Tilney. " A thou- 
 sand a-year ! My goodness ! A thousand ! It is 
 noble. Of course he will."
 
 40 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ^' Of cou7'se I will!" said Mr. Ross, ironically. 
 '' 0, you seem to make \xp the thing readily enough 
 among you. Then of course I won't. My mind's 
 made up ; and whether 1 live or die, whether I 
 am assaulted by ruffians in the street or no, I'll 
 fight the thing out to the last. You, attorneys ! 
 Why, you don't know your own trade ! Why 
 would they be so eager to compromise ? Don't 
 you see the confession of weakness? I shall go on! 
 I'll fight them till I drop, or go to a jail ! I'll 
 have every shilling, or not a shilling in the 
 world !" 
 
 '' Then !" said Mr. Cater, starting up. " Then 
 you'll go on by yourself, sir, and you'll settle with 
 me, sir, at once, and get another solicitor. I'll risk 
 no more for such a madman. Confession of Aveak- 
 ness ! Why, Mr. Paget told us the reason. Why, 
 you know the defendant is a young orphan girl, 
 who wants no law. But take your own course, sir." 
 
 At this moment, with the young man standing 
 up, his eyes hot, his cheeks glowing, and the ugly 
 scar looking as if it were about to burst open from 
 the force of the angry blood within, — with the two 
 solicitors scowling legally at him with set lips, — 
 with Mrs. Tilney and her family rustling their 
 dresses from ^'flouncing" indignantly in their 
 chairs, — the door opened softly, and what seemed 
 to Mr. Tillotson a vision, a divine sj^irit of peace
 
 A STORMY CONSULTATION. 41 
 
 and soft tranquillity, seemed to glide in to com- 
 pose these angry elements. She stood a moment 
 with her hand on the door, brought with her silence 
 and stillness, and a converging of all the angry 
 faces on her.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ADA MILLWOOD. 
 
 She stood there a moment. Wonderful wavy hair, 
 nearly the shade of gold, which ran and rippled 
 in countless tiny hills and valleys, and gave a rich 
 look of detail and garnish ; below, a soft transpa- 
 rent skin, with the dreamiest eyes, a small mouth, 
 and an almost heart-shaped face. At this was 
 Mr. Tillotson lookino^ over from his chair with a 
 strange attraction. There was nothing marked, 
 but every feature was kept in privacy and retire- 
 ment ; and over all floated a sort of tranquil light 
 — a golden halo, as it were, that might have 
 come from the very reflection of that yellow hair. 
 
 The solicitors half rose in obedience to the 
 spell. Through the dresses of the mamma and the 
 two sisters ran a sort of rustle of impatience, 
 which, to say the truth, was almost instinctive. 
 She glided over to Ross, and laying her hand on 
 his arm, said in a low whisper, which every one 
 heard : 
 
 " Do, ah! do be advised, dear William. Lis- 
 ten to your friends, and to those who know
 
 ADA MILLWOOD. 43 
 
 your interests best. Do ; 0, do !" And she 
 looked up into his face with a calm devotional 
 entreaty. 
 
 He set himself free impatiently. " So you 
 must come with the rest ! One of the wise women 
 that know law, I suppose, and know the world 
 as well as any of these professionals. Now see 
 hero ! a word in time. Just go away. Go up to 
 your sewing again." 
 
 "• Before it is too late," she went on. " Think 
 of it, William. Ah," she added, in the same half 
 whisper, " what is this ? You are hurt." 
 
 (The lawyers, set free now from the spell of 
 that sudden entry, had begun to talk again. So 
 what she said was unheard, except by Mr. Tillot- 
 son.) 
 
 " How did you get this?" he heard her say, a 
 little impatiently. " Ah ! you have been in some 
 quarrel. I know it. This old unhappy story. 
 Will you never have done with it ?" 
 
 '' Never. No questioning, please," he an- 
 swered. '^ Suppose it was a razor — a blunt in- 
 fernal thing? And I tell you what;" his eyes 
 began to flame and shoot sparks over to Mr. Til- 
 lotson, and his breathing to grow hard ; " I'll 
 have a satisfaction in finding out the fellow that 
 did it. It'll be the worst job for him in his trade 
 this many a day."
 
 44 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Her eyes quickly followed the savage direction 
 of his. A sort of light seemed to fill her face 
 as she saw Mr. Tillotson. Mr. Tilney, who had 
 been hovering about uneasily, seized the opening 
 eagerly, to divert his guest from their domestic 
 concerns. 
 
 '' Mr. Tillotson, my dear — gentleman from 
 town, stopping at the White Hart. Most unfor- 
 tunate this. Came in at a very awkward moment. 
 The Dook used to talk about washing oiir fine 
 linen in private, and upon my soul I believe it is 
 always the best course." 
 
 ^' I am sorry to have come in at such a mo- 
 ment," said Mr. Tillotson to her; '^and indeed, I 
 wished to go away long since. Perhaps I had 
 better go even now." 
 
 She answ^ered him Avith a kindly eagerness. 
 
 ^'No, no," she said; ''stay. You will know 
 our little troubles soon enough. Even now ;" her 
 placid eyes looked round with a little caution, 
 and then dropped on the ground as she spoke, 
 but Ross was again speaking low to the lawyers ; 
 '^ even now, you, who have been here but one 
 hour, have learned some of our ways — ways that 
 no teaching, no experience will mend." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson' s pale face began to colour. 
 "How?" he said. 
 
 '' Ah, you understand, I see ! A razor, in-
 
 ADA MILLWOOD. 45 
 
 deed ! I can admire your restraint and calm- 
 ness ; but sucli lessons are only thrown away on 
 some." 
 
 She said this with a melancholy that made her, 
 to his eyes, more like a saint than any of the &- 
 mous pictures and images by divine and devout 
 men that he had seen as he travelled. In that 
 private interview — for it was private, with the 
 storm of voices ramnsj: about them — there seemed 
 to have been much spoken, though not in words ; 
 the golden threads of sj^mpathy had been joined 
 between them. 
 
 " Do you stay here long?" she went on hastily, 
 and turning to look out of the window. " Then 
 they must show you the cathedral. Look at it, 
 opposite. 0, if you do, make me a promise ! I 
 am ashamed to speak so, after only a few seconds 
 of acquaintance ; but you will forgive and excuse 
 me. I know what all this means — I can miess 
 what has taken place between you and him. Do 
 not mind him. He has been brought up strangely. 
 We all give way to him. We all humour him. 
 He is worried and harassed and troubled. Will 
 you promise me ?" 
 
 Her face fell into such a sweet, soft, imploring 
 expression of devotion, that no one could have re- 
 sisted. But Mr. Tillotson only answered : 
 
 "I quarrel! Indeed, no! Certainly, I j^ro-
 
 46 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 mise. Did you know what my life lias been, you 
 would indeed say that you might trust me." 
 
 Again the solicitor came back to his point, but 
 on a soft and persuasive "tack." "Surely, Mr. 
 Ross, a sensible long-headed man of the world like 
 you will listen to reason. Come now. What can 
 you have to go upon ? Surely w^e ought to know 
 your interests ; they are ours, are they not ? We 
 are in the same boat, are we not ?" 
 
 " Same boat ! Speak for yourself, attorney, 
 and row for yourself! Same boat ! /know what 
 I am at," said Ross. " I can see through a stone 
 wall where another man couldn't find room to put 
 a stone. I've made my plans." 
 
 "He is thinking of that ridiculous wild-goose 
 chase on which that Grainger set off," said Mrs. 
 Tilney, flouncing and tossing. " Hunting up a 
 witness ! It is mere childish folly ; a ridiculous 
 will-o'-the-wisj). ' ' 
 
 "And yoii know much about it, ma'am!" 
 said Ross. " Stick to your ribbons and laces. 
 You're a fine hand at advice. As for Grainxrer, 
 he has a longer head than all of them put to- 
 gether." 
 
 " Sir ! Mr. Ross !" said the solicitor, starting. 
 
 " Yes," said Ross, " I am Tvaiting for him. 
 He'll be here; and witness or no witness, I'll 
 stand by him, and by what he says. He's in
 
 ADA MILLWOOD. 47 
 
 the town at this moment, or should be. My 
 goodness, what's that ? I declare, if it isn't — " 
 and he ran out of the room. 
 
 The attorney, still fuming, got up and went to 
 the window. There was a cab with luggage at 
 the gate. In a moment Ross had come back, had 
 thrown the door open, and had entered. " There, 
 there !" he said, triumphantly. '' Look at him ! 
 This is the man of his word. He was to be here 
 to-morrow, and he is here before his time, and — 
 successful." 
 
 " Successful !" cried the two attorneys to- 
 gether, and with a start.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS. 
 
 The gentleman who entered witli him took off a 
 sort of poncho very leisurely. Then they saw a 
 tall but stooping man, with a long bony face, 
 which seemed inflamed round the cheekbones, 
 either with the sun or with drinking. He had 
 a lanky ragged moustache hanging down over his 
 lips, and bright though ^^ watery" eyes. "A re- 
 gular comicil," he said, " I see. Easier work, I 
 can tell you, than what I have been at. I hoj^e I 
 am not in the way." 
 
 " Now, Grainger," said Ross, eagerly, '' speak 
 out, and don't be afraid of any one here." (The 
 other smiled, and looked on them a little contemp- 
 tuously.) ^' Speak out. Every one of these wise 
 heads have been at me, including the two demure 
 gentlemen just come down from London. They 
 have been screaming and chattering ' Settle, settle,' 
 until you would think you w^ere in a cage of par- 
 rots. Now, what do you say ? You have as much 
 right to be heard as any of them."
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS, 49 
 
 '' I think so," answered his friend coldly. 
 "Well, I say don't; not if your mother was to 
 tell you on her dying bed. Do nothing of the 
 kind. Don't mind these legal friends of yours, 
 whom I see in such force here. They have their 
 reasons, of course. But don't mind them." 
 
 " Then you will take your own course, Mr. 
 Ross — your own course," said the professional 
 voices. The owners of the professional voices 
 were standing up to go. 
 
 "I certainly shall," said Mr. Ross; "and I 
 mean to do so. And you shall take the course I 
 take, Messrs. Cater and Dawkins, unless I am 
 very much mistaken. I should like to see you 
 when I stand up in court, and tell the judge that 
 my solicitors have thrown up my case on the eve 
 of the assizes simply because I wouldn't compro- 
 mise it. And also when I hand up to his lordship 
 a note showing the speculative character of your 
 professional assistance. No, no, Messrs. Cater and 
 Dawkins. You will think it over, and you will act 
 as your client instructs you. And now, once for 
 all, don't worry me any more. And know all of 
 you by these 2")resents, to use your own jargon, I 
 shall go on and on, and on again, and fight the 
 thing to the death. So long as I have a breath 
 in me, I will. It gives me life and enjoyment. 
 I like playing double or quits. It's my fancy. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 I've taken this thing up and worked it myself so 
 far, and, if you please, shall work it my own way. 
 So now please tell Mr. Bacon that your client de- 
 clines all compromise. There. I have an appoint- 
 ment at the barracks now." 
 
 He strode out of the room. After a moment's 
 pause : '' That's sensible," said Mr. Cater. " That's 
 what we may call genteel. There's a nice speci- 
 men of the relation that should exist between soli- 
 citor and client. But let him go on. Let him 
 take his own course. I wash my hands of the 
 whole thing ; that is, of all responsibility," he 
 added. Thus showing that Mr. Boss had stated 
 the indissoluble nature of this relation, and the 
 view the judge would take of it, quite correctly. 
 " Then there is no further reason for our staying. 
 Good night, good night. It is very melancholy to 
 see such an exhibition. Even the lesson he seems 
 to have got to-night — for it is plain he has been in 
 some street row — no matter. Good night to you, 
 ladies. We shall just catch the train." And the 
 two 2:entlemen went awav. 
 
 ^^A thousand per annum," said Mr. Tilney, 
 coming back ; " only think of that. It seems like 
 a dream a sane man refusing it. It seems quite a 
 dream." 
 
 Thus the professional men went away ; and the 
 family, as if relieved from a burden, and now dis-
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS. 51 
 
 engaged from the practical, turned to Mr. Tillot- 
 son. Every face took down its shutters and put its 
 best goods in the window, and Mrs. Tihiey promptly 
 repaired the horrible omission of social forms. 
 
 Mr. Tilney felt that a fresh introduction was 
 necessary. 
 
 " T met this gentleman, whom I — I know, and 
 just brought him up. Maria, my dear, Mr. Tillot- 
 son. These are my girls, Mr. Tillotson." 
 
 On Mr. Tilney's mouth the rays of a myste- 
 rious intelligence had beamed out with unusual 
 effulgence. The " girls" met him with joyous 
 alacrity. For Mr. Tilney's proceedings were so 
 perfectly understood in his own family, that it 
 was well known that every article he introduced 
 was guaranteed. They read in the creases of 
 his forehead, in his large gray eyes — even the 
 Roman nose seemed to give warning — that this 
 was a valuable stranger. 
 
 " Sit down near me, Mr. Tillotson," said Mrs. 
 Tilney, " and tell me about yourself, now that we 
 are rid of that dreadful man. So you are come to 
 stay here." (This she had read off, on her hus- 
 band's forehead.) 
 
 Mr. Tillotson, scarcely recovered from his em- 
 barrassment, answered, " Only for a few days. I 
 should like to stay longer. It seems such an invit- 
 ing place — " 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIf 
 LIBRARY
 
 52 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ^' Only a few days?" said Mrs. Tilney uneasily. 
 " Why, I thought — " and she was almost going to 
 add, " Mr. Tilney had conveyed to us that you 
 were to reside for a long period ;" but she checked 
 herself, and said, "now, now, that is a very short 
 
 The girls, however, had perfect confidence in 
 their parent's manner. His own friends might 
 be, for all social pui'poses, of a worthless sort, 
 but he never ventured to be the " bringer" of 
 useless recruits. One of the girls j^romptly "fell 
 out," and laid her charms at the feet of Mr. 
 Tillotson. 
 
 "You came from town, Mr. Tillotson?" she 
 said, almost sadly. " 0, how charming ! Papa 
 and mamma used to live in town, and have pro- 
 mised to take me there next year, if I am good. 
 We are here for our education. They are con- 
 sidered to have the best masters in St. Alans. 
 You will wait for Sunday, I am sure. 0, you 
 must — to hear the anthem. Doctor Fugle sings 
 the tenor divinely. You must stay, and come to 
 our pew." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson said it all depended : if he could 
 stay, he should be glad. Miss Augusta — that was 
 her name — was delighted. 
 
 " Mamma ! mamma !" 
 
 "What is it, dear?"
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS. 53 
 
 ^^ Mr. Tillotson has promised to stay for Sun- 
 day, to licar Doctor Fugle." 
 
 ^' I am very glad, dear. You must know, 
 Mr. Tillotson, we all take our stand on tlie cathe- 
 dral. It is om* little boast. They say there is 
 no one at Westminster Abbey comes near to Dr. 
 Fugle." 
 
 It was an antique little room, with the corners 
 cut off by cupboards. Indeed, the house was ver}' 
 old, and rather " remarkable," to use Mr. Tilney's 
 Avord. The windows were of the true rustic pat- 
 tern, and, only twenty years ago, had diamond 
 panes. In one window was the third girl, now 
 standing with her hand to her face, looking out, in 
 an attitude of surprising and unconscious grace. 
 As the light fell upon her, and lighted up her 
 devotional and pensive features, it almost seemed 
 to the visitor that she did not belong to the mun- 
 dane and earthy company sitting there, but that 
 she was someway associated with the cathedral 
 opposite, and that from thence a soft and gorgeous 
 saint from the florid window, or some gentle angel 
 from a niche, had come to them, and would pre- 
 sently return. He almost passed into a dream as 
 he looked, and did not hear the vapid chatter that 
 was in his ears. Suddenly she moved, and went 
 hurriedly out of the room, and in a moment he 
 saw Ross pass the window. A kind of coldness
 
 54 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 and blankness came back on him, and in a few 
 moments he rose to go. 
 
 Mr. Tilney wrung his hand with his most 
 affectionate brown-sherry manner, and came out 
 with him to the garden. 
 
 " Gay girls ; hght-hearted things, ar'n't they ? 
 They'll go on there in that way, for I don't know 
 how much longer. I shall start off to bed, Tillotson. 
 Time was when I would be sitting down to the 
 green cloth, and beginning to deal. That was 
 in the Dook's day. I must show you his letter. 
 One of the kindest, most delicate things, now, 
 you could conceive, and, for a man in his sta- 
 tion — an H.R.H., you know — wonderful! Just 
 look at the cathedral there. No poetry in me, 
 you know, and I don't set up for it. But I can 
 see. Just look at it now. Does it or does it not 
 speak to you here?" he added, touching his waist- 
 coat. '' I always think of the fine line. ' Lifts its 
 tall head and' — something or other. ^ Lies !' tliat's 
 it ! Come up to-morrow, and let us see you be- 
 fore you go. Do now. You like the girls ? Ah, 
 yes. They are so fond of fun ; that is their only 
 fault. But how can they help it? Look here, 
 Tillotson," he added, stopping solemnly, "if my 
 grave was waiting for me, ready open, over the7'e, 
 with the men and their spades, I wouldn't say 
 a word to check their little harmless fun. 'Nb,
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS. 55 
 
 I couldn't do it. I don't see now why I couldn't 
 go part of the way with you," Mr. Tilney 
 said, musingly, as if some one had started an 
 objection to such a thing. "" Why not ? I declare 
 I will !" and Mr. Tilney took Mr. Tillotson's arm, 
 and walked on. 
 
 With some hesitation, Mr. Tillotson asked : 
 " And Mr. Ross, is he any relation?" 
 
 " 0, Ross — poor Ross — to be sure ! A good 
 well-meaning creature. Never do in the world. 
 A kind of a cousin of the girls. We have tried 
 every thing to push him on, but can't. A most 
 self-willed foolish young man, sir. He has got 
 into this lawsuit, which will make him, he says, or 
 break him. Absurd, absurd, sir. Every one of 
 the girls despise him for it." 
 
 " But is not," said Mr. Tillotson, doubtingly, 
 " Miss Ada Millwood interested in him ?" 
 
 Mr. Tilney shook his head. " A good girL 
 Blankets, and all that sort of thing. Playfellows 
 from that high, you know, and pity, and that kind 
 of thing. No, no, no. I suppose if the man has 
 his full pay to spend, he is well off." 
 
 Mr. Tilney said this as if, under such circum- 
 stances, the idea of any relation of affection was 
 absurd. 
 
 • '' Yes, he is a strange creature, a very improper 
 kind of man. He sometimes frightens me, do you
 
 56 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOK 
 
 know, Tillotson — breaks out in a manner that's 
 quite alarming. I do believe that man — he's only 
 seven-and-twentj his next birthday — is one 7nass 
 of bad passions. ISTo kindly influences — no ex- 
 ample—will do," added Mr. Tilney, sadly. ^' No, 
 no. He has nothing here to call on — no chimes 
 of his youth. And once you lose that, it's all up ! 
 The man, Tillotson, has no sense of religion. 
 Nothing that you can put your hand on to touch ;" 
 here Mr. Tilney made a motion of winding up a 
 musical-box on his waistcoat. 
 
 " Who is he, then ?" asked Mr. Tillotson, a 
 little interested. " Wliere does he come from ?" 
 
 ^'His father was an opulent" (he pronounced 
 this word again in a rich and unctuous way), 
 " an op-u-lent Indian merchant. He sent this 
 lad home to one of our great public schools, where 
 he might learn that manliness and self-confidence 
 which I say is so specially English. We all owe that 
 to our great public schools. Look at Byron, look 
 at Bobby Peel, look at little Singleton, who, when 
 I knew him first, I vow to heaven, used to go to 
 a cheap tailor in the Minories, and whom it was a 
 bit of charity to give a chop and a potato to. 
 Well, sir, that man is now governor to one of the 
 royal princes, and that man was at a public 
 school !" 
 
 " And then?—" said Mr. Tillotson.
 
 AMONG THE TILNEYS. 57 
 
 " It was very bad, very, very ungentlemanly. 
 He one day threw a ruler at his master, nearly 
 killed him ; an ordained clei'gyman. Very gross. 
 — ' by man's hand, you know, let it be shed,' and 
 so it was, sir. I mean he was expelled two hours 
 afterwards. And his father, a kind of cousin of 
 mine, afterwards broke hopelessly." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Mr. Tillotson. 
 
 " Broke, I say — horse, foot, and dragoons. I 
 don't think there was one-and-sixpence in the 
 pound left. Died the next year. And, 1 must 
 say in justice to him, Ross has made his own way 
 ever since. Got himself a commission, God knows 
 how, and goes on in that kind o' way, you know. 
 A very strange being. Quite savage at times. I ^ 
 sometimes think there is something wrong in his 
 head." 
 
 Then Mr. Tillotson bade him good-bye, and 
 walked away slowly, really admiring the stillness 
 of the little common, and the picturesque houses 
 behind him, which seemed taken from an old 
 German or French town, and the great massive 
 cathedral which rose so yellow before him. 
 
 That idea of yellowness suggested to him 
 another idea of yellow, and, thinking of that pen- 
 sive lovely-looking girl who was in that " rackety" 
 house, but not of it, and stood out on such a 
 strange background, and such unsuitable figures 
 
 c
 
 58 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 as companions, he walked slowly towards the 
 White Hart, lost his way pleasantly, found it 
 again, got into the streets where the gaudy grocers 
 had nearly shut up their theatrical stores — found 
 Mr. Hiscoke at his bar — and was treated as a state 
 guest, who ordered costly brown-sherry. 
 
 One odd reflection might have occurred to him 
 that night as he laid his head down under his 
 baldequino, that he had been led, chafing and 
 with reluctance, to Mr. Tilney's house, with a 
 weary impression on his mind that " this man 
 would fasten on him," whereas he had come away 
 with a feeling that amounted to eager interest, 
 when Mr. Tilney said, cheerily, '' See you to- 
 morrow, early. Call for you, eh, and take you to 
 the cathedral, with the girls ?"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 The next morning was a Sunday morning, a 
 day when the flaming grocers' shops abdicated. 
 On that day St. Alans was given over to a sort 
 of spiritual sense as marked out by chapters, and 
 deans, and canons, and became wholly cathedral. 
 The shops were closed, the White Hart lan-^ 
 guished. Nature streamed by various alleys to 
 the cathedral. Of this morning, when Mr. Til- 
 lotson turned away from his bedstead — which 
 seemed to nod awfully as the room shook — and 
 looked out of window, it was a bright day, and 
 the street seemed gay enough. On a " dead" 
 door — for there are dead doors as well as walls 
 — he saw some posters with a bold notice about 
 a Neglected Mariners' Aid Society, for whose 
 exhausted funds the dean. Doctor Ridley, the 
 brother to Lord Rooksby, was to appeal at the 
 cathedral. 
 
 Before he had done breakfast, Mr. Tilney had
 
 60 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 walked in, gaj and shining, with his stick. 
 '^ Looked in early," said he. " Knew jou were 
 an early riser, by instinct. Have always been 
 one myself, and so, suppose, shall be, sir, nntil 
 they carry old Dick Tilney over yonder, and put 
 him to bed." He made a flourish with his stick 
 towards the quarter of the compass where the 
 cathedral lay. " We are not lively to-day, 
 though. Little to be done. ]N^o business, of 
 course. And yet, what can you say ? After 
 all one day in the week only, to the Creator. 
 When you come to think of it," said Mr. Til- 
 ney, apologising for the Sunday, ^' it's not so 
 much. I don't grudge it. By the way, Ridley 
 preaches to-day — Lord Rooksby's brother, you 
 know — a poor drawler, between you and me. 
 Grod bless me, when I think of the Chapel Royal, 
 with Lord Henry Grrey, who was dean, and I 
 sitting on the bench with the Dook — as near as 
 I am to you — ah, that was something like a ser- 
 vice ! Between you and me, this is a hole-and- 
 corner of a place, religion and every thing." 
 
 " But I thought you spoke rather favour- 
 ably of it last night," said Mr. Tillotson, hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 "Perhaps I did," said the other — "most 
 likely I did. It's an ill bird, you know — I was 
 not then speaking with you in confidence, you
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 61 
 
 know. But it is a friglitful place for a man that 
 knows better. The men are dreadful ' cads/ and 
 only for the poor girls, whom I am sparing no 
 expense to polish, I'd cut and run to-morrow. 
 It's not fit for a gentleman to live in." 
 
 "Wouldn't you take something?" said Mr. 
 Tillotson, looking at the breakfast-things. 
 
 "No. 0," said Mr. Tilney, irresolutely, "it 
 would be far too early. No, no — better not." 
 (There was here a sort of ellipsis, the omitted part 
 referring to brown-sherry.) " Now let us go." 
 
 He put his arm through Mr. Tillotson's, and 
 led him down the streets. They got to the com- 
 mon, and there, by daylight and by sunlight, 
 Mr. Tillotson saw the long and uneven row o^ 
 detached houses, each a bit of architecture in its 
 way, where the finer ecclesiastical society had 
 dwelt splendidly a hundred years ago. They did 
 well enough now for small canons. On the other 
 side was the great cathedral, to which lines of 
 people were converging across the common like 
 the lines on an English flag. 
 
 "We'll call at the house," said Mr. Tilney, 
 knowingly, " and we can all go in together. 
 Do you know, I like this worshipping of our 
 Maker in common," he added, taking the hori- 
 zon in with a flourish ; "it makes me feel like 
 — the Vicar of Wakefield. One day in the week
 
 62 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 is all that is asked from us — not more — and it 
 ain't much, Tillotson." These remarks were again 
 all made as if Mr. Tillotson were urging the abro- 
 gation of the Sabbath. " Ah! here is the house. 
 Here we are." 
 
 It would seem that one of " the girls' " duties 
 was to take life generally in " parties," and to 
 ^^ make up parties" for such things. Nothing 
 could be enjoyed heartily without some combina- 
 tion ; if a military one, all the happier. Thus 
 the cathedral service became subject to the same 
 law, and Messrs. Still and Spring of the garrison 
 had been pressed and enjoined, and almost com- 
 pelled, to perform their Sunday worship under 
 these conditions. These gentlemen were already 
 in attendance. Younghusband, as his friends 
 said, without any reserve, had " fought shy." 
 
 The " girls" were in their sacred toilette, the 
 most effective and splendid of their whole series. 
 For the others might be addressed to concert 
 spectators and the persons who came to hear the 
 band : but the cathedral gathered all ages, sexes, 
 and conditions. It was best, therefore, and perhaps 
 only devotional, to be as effective as possible. 
 Their father put it better and more forcibly still, 
 when he said : " Ah ! Do we put on our fine 
 clothes for you and me — for the lord-lieutenant 
 of the county, or for the general of the district — and
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 63 
 
 shall we not put them on for the Maker of all ?" 
 And with his stick Mr. Tilney pointed towards the 
 ceiling, in the direction of an upper room. 
 
 They went to the cathedral along a little cross 
 path in a sort of procession, two and two, each 
 lady with a gentleman. Mr. Tillotson was to have 
 walked with Mrs. Tilney, but by some accident 
 that lady was a little late, and he found him- 
 self beside the s^olden - haired p-irl of the house. 
 As she walked, the sunlight that tipped the 
 hands of the clock high up on the cathedral, 
 revelled in the golden foliage of her hair. This 
 was pale and yet rich gold. It was a feast for 
 the eye. 
 
 The shrill speeches of the other girls, whom 
 the continual humour of Mr. Spring and Mr. Still 
 were causing to " die" every moment, were borne 
 back to them. 
 
 " They seem to enjoy life so much," said 
 Mr. Tillotson; "they are always laughing." 
 
 The girl answered him very softly. " They 
 like life," she said, " and they like laughing." 
 
 " You do not laugh quite so much. Forgive 
 my saying so." 
 
 " And yet I don't see why I should not. 
 They all tell me I should be very grateful and 
 happy." 
 
 " It is easy to tell our friends that," said he,
 
 64 TIJE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 reflectively. " I have plenty of kind well-mean- 
 ing people who keep reminding me that I ought 
 to be happy." 
 
 " But ought you not ? Mr. Tilney says that 
 you are rich I" 
 
 "Rich, of course!" he said, a little bitterly; 
 " that is the elixir that is to cure us of every 
 tliino'. I think I should better bear what I have 
 to bear, if I were poor." 
 
 She was growing curious — perhaps even inter- 
 ested. 
 
 " You speak," she said, "as if some great 
 trial had visited you. Forgive me for saying so, 
 but even last night I thought I saw — " 
 
 " Why not?" said he. " Though I know you 
 but for a short time, I can see that you ask from 
 no idle curiosity." 
 
 "No, indeed!" 
 
 Mr. Tilney walked all this time on the grass, 
 attached to no one specially, but as the general 
 parent and guardian of all — under the favour of 
 a beneficent Creator. He passed Mr. Tillotson. 
 " Ah, Tillotson ! Look, cathedral — yon see !" 
 
 It was scarcely possible to avoid seeing this 
 great monument, as it stood right in front. To 
 him Mr. Tillotson smiled an answer; to Miss 
 Millwood he said : 
 
 " My mother and my father were alive about
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 65 
 
 eight or ten years ago. They were the ^ best of 
 parents ;' not according to the hackneyed form 
 by which every parent is the best of liis kind, 
 but they would have died for me, as I believe 
 I would have died for them. But I was young 
 and foolish — wicked, rather ; and one day I found 
 they had left me — for ever." He stopped and 
 put his hand to his eyes. " Now you may see," 
 he said, in a moment, " in what way I must 
 look on life." 
 
 In a gentler voice, trembling with sympathy : 
 " 0, I am so sorry — I did not mean, indeed — I 
 feel for you — I," she said, sadly, ''have had my 
 miseries, if that be any comfort to you. The only 
 thing left to me is, to look back to a child- 
 hood that seems like a dream. One morning I 
 too awoke, and it was all over. Ever since, it 
 seems like a succession of dark winter days 
 also ! But I have no right to repine." 
 
 Full of sympathy, which was growing in him 
 every moment, Mr. Tillotson listened eagerly for 
 more. He did not listen eagerly to much during 
 his life. " Go on," he said. " Miss Millwood. 
 Tell me more, and if — " 
 
 Mr. Tilney was beside them. " That Ross, 
 of course, not here. I suppose hard at work with 
 a short pipe in his mouth at this very moment. 
 All ! very bad, very bad, Tillotson ; I respect a 
 
 YOL. T. F
 
 ^Q THE SECOND MKS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 man that keeps up all the established decencies of 
 life. I do indeed. No matter : here we are." 
 
 He removed his hat and strode on in front 
 of the rest, what with his height and stick, look- 
 ing like a social drum-major. As they came 
 under the porch, the organ, touched by Edward 
 Bliss, Mus. Doc. Oxon., was rolling and eddying 
 in great billows up and down the huge hall ; 
 the air was trembling and quivering ; the great 
 pedals were booming and buzzing up in the clouds. 
 The ladies stole away towards what seemed the 
 back huge wardrobes and cupboards where giants 
 kept their linen, but which was the unavoidable 
 effect of that enclosure which gives the true effect 
 to a cathedral by reducing it to a convenient size. 
 While the ladies took their gentlemen to the choir, 
 Mr. Tilney whispered his friend softly to "come 
 round. They had five minutes yet." 
 
 Mr. Tilney stopped a moment and drew back 
 his friend. " Look up," he said, " and take it 
 all in; thrones, dominations, and the rest of them, 
 what are they to this ? This endures ; the?/ pass 
 away, and — where are you ! By the way," said 
 Mr. Tilney, suddenly changing the subject, " there 
 are the Tophams. Look, Tillotson ; that London- 
 built carriage. Most remarkable people. His 
 brother is the Eight Honourable Henry Topham 
 — one of the secretaries. And there, you see.
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 67 
 
 they come here to service, like any of us. And 
 I declare to Heaven, Tillotson, I have seen /«m, . 
 that overworked man, kneeling in one of the 
 stalls with a Prayer-book in his hand, and listen- 
 ing to one of the common canons here, preaching 
 in his regular turn. There they come. If you 
 like, I'll introduce you ?" 
 
 The Tophams had alighted from their carriage, 
 and were crossing the little enclosure to the porch. 
 Doctor Topham strode at the head of his family. 
 He was one of the terrible powers of the place ; 
 wore a white tie, like the clergymen of the place, 
 though he was only a layman, an ecclesiastical 
 lawyer, vicar-general to the bishop — surrogate, 
 and what not — in short, a pompous sour -looking 
 pluralist of immense influence in the place, from 
 his relation to the secretary. 
 
 He was very tall and pompous, and carried 
 his umbrella on his shoulder, as a dragoon would 
 his sabre. He walked in advance of his family, 
 and seemed to approach the door of the cathedral 
 as if it were the door of his own house. Mr. 
 Tilney waited for him a little nervously. " How 
 d'ye do, Tihiey ?" said the great man, without 
 stopping. '* They've not begun inside, I sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 Mr. Tilney was greatly gratified by this cor- 
 dial notice, and assured him that no such liberty
 
 6S THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ]iad been taken. '' A very proud man," said he, 
 looking after liim ; "can do what he likes with 
 tlie government. He is coming to dine with us." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson went round the cold black area, 
 looking up when he was bidden in the direction 
 of the stick, and to the right, and to the right and 
 the left, when he was invited to do that. But he 
 had seen many foreign cathedrals of reputation and 
 of equal size ; seen them glowing with colour, and 
 decoration, and warmth, and crowded from the 
 grand door at the bottom of the nave up to the 
 darker far end, where there was the white cloud 
 and indistinct white figures. But he now saw, 
 instead, the neat marble tablets let into the wall 
 to the memory of the treasurer of the county, 
 with the stone sideboard erected by the sorrowing 
 militia officers to their captain, and various marble 
 ottomans strewn about ; among which the old 
 knight, shining like black bronze from the polish 
 of time, lying on his back, with his hands joined 
 in the old Avay, looked sadly out of place. And 
 presently he heard Dr. Bliss roaring and rumb- 
 ling ; but a faint smothered and suj)pressed Dr. 
 Bliss, enclosed fast, and playing into an enclosure 
 of wardrobes. 
 
 Now was Mr. Tillotson led devoutly and softly 
 into the pew where the family knelt, and placed 
 kneeling upon a hassock, and had a heavy book
 
 THE CATHEDRAL. 69 
 
 thrust into liis hand, without having even the 
 place found for him. Heads turned round, also 
 bonnets on the heads, to see " who the Tilneys had 
 got with them," besides the officers regularly se- 
 cured, and who Avere more or less a drug. The 
 ladies and gentlemen of the town sat in tiers in the 
 oak-stalls, and many a gay bonnet lay humorously 
 beside a " begging griffin." 
 
 Now came in the j)i'ocession, with the angelic 
 boys, the choristers, florid, ascetic, and seraphic; 
 all which shapes of expression were discovered in 
 bass, tenor, and counter-tenor faces. They all 
 scattered to their places with a resigned look, as 
 if they were professionally holy men. Then the 
 service set in, and then the sermon.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AFTER THE DEAN's SERMON. 
 
 As Lord Rooksbj's brother came in to his third 
 quarter of an hour, the sun poured down with un- 
 usual splendour, and swept across the stalls where 
 the Tilney family sat. Mr. Tillotson saw that Mr. 
 Tilney was asleep, with a fallen jaw and long gaunt 
 nose ; and this moment of fatal unconscious- 
 ness betrayed to him Mr. Tilney's real age. The 
 '' girls" were wakeful ; perhaps studying a row of 
 bonnet-backs on the tier below them. But at the 
 very end the sunlight fell upon a patch of gold 
 almost as gorgeous as the old transparent yellows 
 in the panes high up in the windows ; that yellow 
 hair which rested on the pale white forehead and 
 soft composed devotional face, which, with eyes 
 cast down, was accepting the dry ramblings of the 
 confessor who was brother to Lord Rooksby, as if 
 he were St. Augustine or Fenelon. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson's devotion was not warm ; and 
 often and often his eyes travelled profanely to that 
 " Madonna" face, and his thoughts travelled fast 
 and speculated on it with a strange and a fond in-
 
 AFTER THE DEAN'S SERMON. 71 
 
 terest. Looking back through the cold November 
 days of our life, we stop at some such Sunday 
 mornings as these , when the smi is suffusing every 
 thing outside, and our thoughts are as festive as 
 the day — a Christmas or an Easter — and tra- 
 velling from mere buoyancy far away outside the 
 walls of church or cathedral. 
 
 But now Miss Augusta, stooping across her 
 neighbour, was whispering to Mr. Tillotson that 
 Dr. Fugle, the tenor, was going to begin the 
 "Anthem;" and Dr. Bliss, having securely got 
 in his mainsail from the storm, was piping most 
 softly and ravishingly. And Mr. Tillotson saw 
 just opposite to him, at the other side, a round 
 pink face with enormous whiskers, which was 
 now singing out of a little hole at the corner of 
 its mouth ; but the face was kept up towards the 
 groining of the roof, and the eyes had a soft and 
 languishing air, as if they were cherubim's eyes. 
 So that Doctor Fugle, as he chanted that his 
 " soul panteth," seemed to be rapt, and to have 
 soared away ecstatically. The sisters looked over 
 at Mr. Tillotson in delight, for this was one of 
 Fugle's best efforts ; though, in truth, the seraphim 
 was a rather old seraphim, and he supplied the ab- 
 sence of the higher notes by skilful declamation. 
 Then Doctor Bliss " let go" the ropes and blocks, 
 and the winds rose again, and all the canons, save the
 
 72 THE SECOND MltS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 bass canons, who ground their organs in an earthly 
 way, were seen celestially rapt, chanting with re- 
 signation, with all their eyes upturned to heaven. 
 And then came Bliss again, and the seraphic 
 canons went out languidly in procession, quite in- 
 different to life after this taste of heavenly com- 
 muning, and the congregation broke up with alac- 
 rity, and pom'ed out of the cathedral. 
 
 The family procession, too, came out, with the 
 gentlemen. The ladies were very voluble. " Did 
 you ever hear any thing like Doctor Fugle ? Such 
 an exquisite voice ! At that part where he said 
 ^pan — teth — panteth,' I could have cried." 
 
 " It was fine," said their father, using his stick 
 with feeling. " I like this sort of thing, I do, 
 now. I feel better for it afterwards. During all 
 the week we may have done this, that, and t'other. 
 God Almighty knows I don't set up for a saint — 
 never did, and never shall. I hate your canting 
 fellows. But when I am sitting there, in that old 
 place, of a Sunday morning, with all of us round, 
 worshipping our common Maker, I feel the better 
 for it — all the better for it." 
 
 He certainly did feel better, or ought to feel 
 so, considering what Mr. Tillotson had seen of 
 him during the sermon. 
 
 "Why couldn't he cut it shorter?" said Mr. 
 Spring irreverently ; " the man that preached."
 
 AFTEK THE DEAN's SERMON. 73 
 
 '' Lord Kooksby's brother," interposed Mr. 
 Tilney softly, as a sort of caution, and looking 
 round. 
 
 Miss Augusta, laughing and blushing, and 
 saying " 0" very often, said Mr. Spring was 
 '"dreadful," and ''shocking," and, she feared, 
 "wicked." 
 
 Looking back, Mr. Tillotson saw the third girl 
 following by herself. She seemed to him to be 
 the gentle Cinderella of the family. Li a moment 
 he had dropped behind to join her; a step that 
 did not attract much notice then, as Major Canby, 
 whose arrival had been reported yesterday, was 
 just met with and stopped on the highw^ay. Dur- 
 ing the voluble and almost vociferous greetings 
 that welcomed this officer's return, Mr. Tillotson 
 was speaking to Miss Millwood. 
 
 " I watched you during that very long ser- 
 mon," he said. " You were rapt by the dean's 
 eloquence." 
 
 "I don't know," she answered. "I am afraid 
 not. I was thinking of many other things." 
 
 Her face had lighted up as he approached her. 
 Perhaps she felt that here was a friend who in- 
 clined kindly towards her, in this family where 
 she had relations but no friends. 
 
 " But you cannot have much to think of," he 
 said, " at your age, in this retired and picturesque
 
 74 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 place, which is one of the quiet streets of the 
 world—" 
 
 " Ah, you cannot tell/' she said, sadly and sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 Up came Mr. Tilney. " Tillotson," he said, 
 " mind you dine with us I Doctor Topham, Can- 
 by, and one or two more have promised to come, 
 in the kindest way. Only a joint, I give you 
 warning ; but done well, my friend. I'll guaran- 
 tee you that. And prime meat, too. Choose my 
 own, and market for myself. No, no, no. No 
 excuse, my friend." 
 
 They were close to the house now, and saw 
 Mr. Ross leaning against the gate, smoking his 
 short pipe. He watched them narrowly as they 
 came up. 
 
 " Here are the holy ones come home to the 
 heathen," he said. " The Pharisees and pub- 
 licans all in one lot! What a time you have 
 been ! Do you know I have been waiting here 
 ever so long ?" This he seemed to speak to Ada. 
 
 " Ah ! it had been really better, Eoss, if you had 
 been with us at the cathedral," said Mr. Tilney; 
 " far better. Really, on Sunday, one day in the 
 week only — where we had an excellent 'practical 
 sermon from Doctor Ridley — " 
 
 " Let him prose away till he is sick," said 
 Mr. Ross, '^ for those who choose to go and hear
 
 AFTER THE DEAJST's SERMON. 75 
 
 him. I want to speak to you, Ada." And with 
 an imperious nod he summoned her over to one 
 side. After the nod came a kind of insolent glance 
 at Mr. Tillotson. 
 
 They were still at the gate; Mr. Tilney ex- 
 plaining, as it were, mysteriously to Mr. Tillot- 
 son : " Rather ill-conditioned, you see ; but we 
 bear with him. He is greatly to be pitied. He 
 is always in and out of the house like a dog — a 
 tame dog, sir. Brought up with the girls, you 
 know." 
 
 " I think," Mr. Tillotson said, looking over a 
 little anxiously to where Mr. Ross was showing 
 Ada a letter, '^he likes Miss Millwood, does he 
 not ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so. Cousins, you know. I daresay 
 he has thought of them all round. Augusta for a 
 month, then her sister, then that — er — girl Ada. 
 Bless you, not one of them would look at him, 
 not even that Ada there. The man's next door to 
 a pauper." 
 
 " But if he should win his lawsuit?" 
 
 ^^ Ah," said the other, grimly, " then 1 daresay 
 Augusta — there's no knowing." 
 
 " Why not Miss Millwood?" 
 
 " 0, out of the question. As for poor Ada, 
 she has other things to think of I don't know 
 what we shall do with her ; what to put her to."
 
 76 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " Put her to?" said Mr. Tillotson, in astcnisli- 
 ment. 
 
 " She must do — er — something, you see. Au- 
 gusta and her sister have portions left them by 
 their good aunt ; but slie — I don't know loliat we 
 can do with her, really." 
 
 Then Mr. Tilney dwelt (with his stick) on the 
 praises and charms of his own daughters, who had 
 portions. Their great charm was the love of home 
 and taste for domestic pursuits; never ' caring, he 
 said, to go outside the door. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson got away from him, back to the 
 White Hart, under solemn pledges to return at 
 seven o'clock and '^ cut his mutton." From its 
 windows he ruminated gloomily on the dull streets, 
 which, though clean, looked forlorn and wretched. 
 ^' Why did I promise to go to this man?" he 
 thought. " I have no business with him, or with 
 such comj^any. I am wholly out of place there." 
 So he was, indeed. "^ This poor place, too, is not 
 the place for business, I can see that with a glance. 
 They are the dead alive here ; much as I am my- 
 self. I think I will write to Mr. Tilney, and ex- 
 cuse myself by a headache, and go uj^ to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 But he did not write, and he postponed the 
 second resolution altogether. He would see about 
 it, he thought. He then went out into the Sunday
 
 AFTER THE DEAN's SERMON. 77 
 
 town and wandered here and there listlessly, but 
 kept carefully away from the cathedral, where, if 
 found, he knew he would be led away to hear Doc- 
 tor Fugle once more. The whole place seemed a 
 hundred years behind. The provincial look w^as 
 on it like a blight.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 m THE DINING-KOOM. 
 
 By seven he was at Mr. Tilney's again. That 
 gentleman was in what he pleasantly called his 
 '' marriage garment." Messrs. Canby and Still 
 were there, with Ensign Ross, who, Mr. Tilney al- 
 most insinuated, had asked himself, adding some- 
 thing about " the table being full." He was look- 
 ing absently and impatiently out of window. Mr. 
 Tillotson, perhaps, understood his position per- 
 fectly, as that of a sensitive, impetuous, proud 
 young man, without the means to purchase toler- 
 ance for his pride, impetuosity, and sensitiveness. 
 These are luxuries as expensive to keep as dogs 
 and racers, four-in-hands, opera-boxes, and the 
 like. 
 
 A tall heavy man was on the rug with his back 
 to the fire, in a very smooth white tie without a 
 crease, which seemed to be made of cream-laid 
 note-paper. Mr. Tillotson recognised him as Doc- 
 tor Topham, the great ecclesiastical lawyer, and 
 cousin of the Secretary to the Treasury. He some-
 
 IN THE DINING-ROOM. 79 
 
 times recognised Mr. Tilney in this private, un- 
 official way ; and knowing that he had good wines 
 and choice fare, came to him without his state- 
 coach, as it were, without his robes, and without 
 Mrs. Topham (faintly connected with a nobleman's 
 family). 
 
 Mr. Tilney presented his new guest a little 
 nervously. 
 
 " How-de-do ?" said Doctor Topham ; then 
 turned away. '^ Well, what d'ye suppose they 
 did? Of course the bishop sent the papers to 
 me — advice and opinion, and all that. Had he 
 the power, or had he not? There was the point. 
 Of course he had, as I showed Avith a stroke of the 
 pen." 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Tilney, with his eye on 
 the door. '* Doctor Topham, we know, has the 
 canon law at his fingers' ends. Ah ! do tell 
 Tillotson about the Privy-Council case." 
 
 " I tell you what," said Doctor Topham in a 
 loud voice, " some stringent steps must be taken 
 with these men — these low radical fellows and 
 agitators in the Chapter here. What do they talk 
 of their rights for ? What rights have they ? If 
 I were the bishop, I'd deal with the whole pack of 
 'em at once ; and that fellow Norbury I'd pick out 
 and make an example of" 
 
 Here was also the Mr. Grainger whom he had
 
 80 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 seen with Ross on the first mornincr. This e'en- 
 tleinan attracted his notice very disagreeably, from 
 his soft voice and quiet manner, which fell in so 
 harmoniously with the long, rude, and almost 
 battered face, the rather wild eyes, and the " rag- 
 ged" moustache which hung down over the cor- 
 ners of his mouth like that of a Chinese. Mr. 
 Tilney had expressed a very low moral opinion of 
 this gentleman to his new friend. " Consul, my 
 dear sir, at Fernando Po ; carries on the w^ild- 
 animal and travelling business. It's very common 
 nowadays — between ourselves, a man of desj^erate 
 habits. Some relation, I think, of Lord Mon- 
 boddo's. I know he got him a consulship some- 
 where. After all, we must not trust every story," 
 he said, as if he was actually combating Mr. 
 Tillotson's harsh view. '' Charity is a great deal. 
 A little charity. And you know, Tillotson, 'judge 
 not, in that ye may not cast your foot against 
 a stone ;' " with Avhich extraordinary quotation 
 from no known version of the sacred text, he 
 went with alacritv to meet his o^uests. 
 
 This Mr. Grainger seemed to have the strongest 
 influence over Boss, founded, it would seem, on a 
 sort of reverence. The young man's eyes followed 
 the elder's with a strange persistence. Mr. Grain- 
 ger, who seemed to love to talk in a low mono- 
 tone to some lady, as it were in a private corner.
 
 IN THE DINING-ROOM. 8l 
 
 with his head bent down, looked very narrowly at 
 Mr. Tillotson as he entered, and then asked the 
 lady all about him. " Some one papa has got hold 
 of. Papa is always picking up people in the train, 
 and every where." 
 
 They went down to dinner, but there was 
 rather a " fastueux" humility in Mr. Tilney's de- 
 scription of the meal as "a plain joint," for the 
 entertainment was choice and small, compact and 
 refined. There was "nice" glass, flowers, and 
 pretty china. The whole had a cool shady look 
 on that sunny da}\ The military gentlemen got 
 into alacrity and spirits as they saw this feast, 
 Avhich Avas laid, as it were, in an arbour. 
 
 " You must take us as you find us," said 
 Mr. Tilney, "quite in the rough — all in the 
 rough. You must recollect that we are far down 
 in Wiltshire. How many hundred miles is that 
 from Franca telli, or Soyer, or Gunter ? But still, 
 one thing, Canby, no gory joints here — no, no, 
 no !" 
 
 For a place " all in the rough," so many hun- 
 dred miles from Francatelli and the other artists, 
 it was indeed surprising. Wine good and cool, 
 fish, fruit, every thing. The hearts of the warriors 
 could not but be softened and subdued to that 
 good-humour which is almost akin to love. With 
 his lively talk and bonhomie, Mr. Tilney illustrated 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 the whole as with a garnish. For this (compara- 
 tively speaking) child of nature, every dish was a 
 surprise. " Now what have we here ? What 
 shall we call this ? God bless me, so it is ! Doctor 
 Topham, this turns out to be something a la Tar- 
 tare. Oysters, I believe. I don't warrant it ; but 
 it is likely to be good. Mrs. T. knows something 
 about it, so you must be down on her. Plate, 
 Jenny." (In a whisper to Mr. Tillotson) "For 
 ten years we have always had a parlour-maid. 
 Infinitely preferable to a heavy drunken creature, 
 that deafens you with his boots. Look at Jenny 
 there ; she does uncommon well." 
 
 Jenny indeed glided round like velvet, was 
 neat-handed, made no clatter, and, with her rib- 
 bons and chintz dress, looked almost like a theatre 
 peasant. 
 
 The young ladies were absorbed in the recent 
 adventures of Major Canby; Augusta, to whom 
 the family had, after deliberation, allotted Mr. 
 Tillotson— an arrangement always honourably ad- 
 hered to by the sisters — combining her attention 
 to her civil and military connections with a skill 
 that was surprising, and the result of long training. 
 The best of Mr. Canby' s adventures was an in- 
 cident connected with the railway, which at least 
 made him laugh heartily. 
 
 " I knew I should be late, so I sent my fellow
 
 IN THE DINING-ROOM. 83 
 
 at once for a cab — got down the traps uncommonly 
 quick, I can tell 3^ou — but all along, you see, the 
 feller was taking his time. Well, I got in, and 
 what do you think the feller did ? Grot behind a 
 wretched beer -cart, and kept behind it all the 
 way. I w^as in a fever. I don't know if the beer- 
 cart was running for the train, but it looked un- 
 common like it." 
 
 In uncontrollable laughter the two girls had to 
 lay down their knives and forks. Major Canby 
 laughed himself good-humouredly. The narrative 
 was suspended for a few moments. 
 
 " I assure you it's a fact," he said. '' I thought 
 we should never have done with that beer-cart. I 
 called to the feller — I shouted to him ; but I saw 
 it was all up." 
 
 " 0, how dreadful !" said the second Miss 
 Tilney in a tone of sympathy, ^ Ho , miss a train, 
 and have to wait — " 
 
 "0, it wasn't that, you know. 0, I caught 
 it — five minutes to spare. But wasn't it good — 
 the beer-cart, you know?" 
 
 "Eh! what's that?" said Mr. Tilney, coming 
 into the conversation, and quite delighted at the 
 general hilarity. " I did not catch it. Something 
 good, /know." 
 
 " 0, you must tell papa," she said ; "he won't 
 let you off."
 
 84 THE SECOND MKS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 "0, it was only a curious thing about a beer- 
 cart, as I was running for the train," said Mr. 
 Canby modestly; and good-naturedly began the 
 story over again. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was speaking, too, to another 
 person — speaking thoughtfully and amusingly ; 
 but his narration was scarcely received with the 
 enthusiasm that welcomed the beer-cart. He told 
 of some of the more sensible phases of town life ; 
 and especially a strange story of a luckless banker- 
 friend who had failed, and then was supposed to 
 have taken j^oison. He told these things without 
 vanity, or without thinking of himself, and with 
 some dramatic effect ; and then he found thought- 
 ful eyes, looking out from under yellow hair, 
 fixed on him. That face certainly, of all faces in 
 the room, best understood him. Then she asked 
 <][uestions — short, eager, and enthusiastic questions 
 — which betrayed her temperament to Mr. Tillot- 
 son, and showed how interested she was. 
 
 This attracted a wary sister. ^^ A ]Door banker, 
 dear !" she said scornfully. '' It was very dread- 
 ful, of course. What private romance have you in 
 the matter ?" 
 
 Doctor Topham looked up from his plate — he 
 always ate stooping over, and in a greedy way, 
 like the iri'eat Dr. Samuel Johnson — " Romance !" 
 he said; '^fiddlestick! I'd like to see one of my
 
 TN THE DINING-ROOM. 85 
 
 daughters setting up for romance. I wouldn't 
 let a grain of it into my house, nor my brother 
 Frederick, who is at the Treasury, into his. Who 
 do you say is romantic?" 
 
 Augusta tittered. " 0, Doctor Topham, how 
 hard you are on poor Ada ! — Why ivill you say 
 those things, Ada?" 
 
 All the table looked at the golden -haired girl, 
 who coloured. Mr. Tillotson spoke in a low, calm, 
 clear voice. "Miss Millwood was not saying a 
 word about romance. It was any thing but 
 romantic what I was speaking of — a poor banker 
 who destroyed himself." 
 
 Doctor Topham did not like being contradicted, 
 and still less being set right on any matter. " I did 
 not hear your banker's story, sir," he said ; " and 
 was speaking of the way I would bring up m}' 
 family." 
 
 " Two different trains of ideas," said Mr. Tilney 
 nervously. " Very good indeed." 
 
 ^' Perhaps so," said Mr. Tillotson indifferently. 
 
 " At any rate, ive have romance in the house," 
 said Ross with a sneer, " in great force, and no 
 mistake. Quite a professor, it seems." 
 
 " I have not brought it in," said Mr. Tillotson 
 good-humouredly. " If you only knew me, you 
 would find it fitted me less than any one in the 
 world."
 
 86 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " No," said Ross ; " I believe that is not much 
 in your line. The pound of flesh — nearest the 
 heart — eh? Not a second's delay — eh?" 
 
 A tinge of colour came in the other's pale 
 cheek. It was all " Grreek" to the military gen- 
 tlemen, now left miles behind. 
 
 Ada had a glow in her cheek, and her eyes 
 were flashing reproach at Ross. He saw her, and 
 looked back at her defiantly. '^ No, no," she said, 
 " you don't mean all that." 
 
 "Don't I!" said he. "But I tell you I 
 do. Pish for your romance and your romance- 
 mongers. You, Ada Millwood, are a great au- 
 thority on such matters. You, of course, have met 
 lots of charming bankers, who force their money 
 on you, and take no interest, and fill up cheques 
 all day long — ha, ha ! Poetical fellows — ha, ha ! 
 with poetical brass shovels—ha, ha !," Suddenly 
 his voice changed. " I have met one or two of 
 that sort, haven't I? Fellows that will give you a 
 coward's blow in the dark, and pretend to get off" 
 on that ; sweet fellows to look at, but with whom 
 I shall be even one of these days." (The military, 
 a whole county behind, could not understand a 
 word. They afterwards said to each other, "How 
 jolly screwed that Ross had got, and so early in 
 the night, too.") 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Tillotson's face contracted, a
 
 IN THE DINING-ROOM. 87 
 
 faint colour came, and a sort of scorn to his voice. 
 " There are men," he said, '' who can only be dealt 
 \^dth in one way — on whom all treatment, except a 
 good physical appeal, is sure to be thrown away. 
 I am never sorry for having given such a lesson — 
 never !" 
 
 Ross's eyes flashed fury. " Why, what do 
 you mean?" he said. ^' Pray explain." 
 
 The most gentle, piteous, and mournfuUest ap- 
 peal in the world was made to Mr. Tillotson from 
 the softest and most appealing face. It seemed to 
 say, " Ah, no, for m?/ sake ! Think of him as a 
 poor hunted worried outcast, against whom is the 
 whole world, and who is fretted and chafed, and 
 not accountable for what he says." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson's face changed also. He at once 
 dropped his arms. 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Ross," he said. '' No 
 wonder you call me romantic, if not bombastic. 
 Perhaps I have been reading a great number of 
 novels lately. It is a resource for people in my 
 way, so you must make all allowance." 
 
 The sweetest look of grateful thanks rewarded 
 this amende. But Ross was not appeased. No 
 wonder those who knew him slightly said that he 
 was as " ill-conditioned a boor as ever came into 
 the world." 
 
 Doctor Topham was not heeding this light talk.
 
 88 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 but was busy detailing the whole stages of the 
 Privy-Comicil case. " I saw all the papers. It 
 was I who advised every step. I had the bishop 
 by the hand and led him throng! i. There were 
 fellows here who were for having in Lushington, 
 and the rest of them. And I assure you, the 
 miserable gang of plotters in the Chapter here, the 
 hole-and-corner agitators, on every man of whom 
 I could, at this moment, put my finger, tried to 
 twist this into a grievance. But the bishop de- 
 spised them, and he despises them noic, sir ; and 
 all I tell yon is, simply, wait, sir, wait ; and at the 
 first opening we shall be down on the ring- 
 leaders."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN THE DRAWING-EOOM. 
 
 ^' And now, how did they treat you at the White 
 Hart, Tillotson ?" Mr. Tihiey called out, in a loud 
 voice. "Well, hey? Tell me." _ . 
 
 " 0, excellently," Mr. Tillotson answered ab- 
 sently. " They are very civil indeed." 
 
 " So they ought to be," said Mr. Tilney. " Do 
 you know, they gave Tillotson the Brown Room. 
 I knew it at once, a finely proportioned thing. It 
 was really a compliment to Tillotson. He gave it 
 to the princess, when she was on her way to the 
 Dook's, near here, to stay for the cattle-show. Tell 
 us about it, Tillotson." 
 
 A little confused, Mr. Tillotson cleared his 
 voice, and said, " The fact is, I did not use it, 
 after all." 
 
 " Not use it !" said Mr. Tilney, laying down 
 his knife and fork. " The princess's ! You don't 
 tell me that." Mr. Tilney said this with such 
 genuine wonder and sorrow mixed, that the rest 
 of the company turned to look at Mr. Tillotson. 
 
 Confused under this observation, he said.
 
 90 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " The room was too large and vaulty; a cavern, 
 in fact, and so cold — " 
 
 ''My God!" said Mr. Tilney, aghast; "but, 
 you know, Lord Monboddo always — And where 
 did they put you ?" 
 
 " In a smaller and more compact place." 
 
 " I think I should have changed too, like 
 Mr. Tillotson," said Mr. Grainger, in a low voice. 
 
 " So should I," said Ada Millwood. 
 
 " So should I," repeated Ross scornfiilly, " if 
 I were afraid of ghosts, or had any thing on my 
 conscience." 
 
 " Goodness ! goodness !" said Mr. Tilney, get- 
 ting abstracted; "it seems only yesterday when 
 the whole hotel rushed in to see the poor old 
 general. Some of us, not dressed exactly — ahem : 
 as we are now. About two in the morning — 
 I was only a lad, you know. A terrible scene, 
 sir, for one so young. An old man that had 
 served his country, and his gray hairs dabbled 
 in blood." 
 
 Miss Millwood turned to Mr. Tillotson, as she 
 saw his hand travel to his forehead in a sort of 
 agony, and also half draw back his chair. Mr. 
 Grainger, from the opposite side, noticed the same 
 thing with a little sm^prise. 
 
 " Very odd indeed," said one of the officers ; 
 " was all this a duel ?"
 
 IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. 91 
 
 "A duel," said Mr. Tilney plaintively. "The 
 old general was testy latterly, had the idea that 
 people said he was past his work. Then there was 
 the young wife, you know. Very unpleasant." 
 (And Mr. Tilney's face fell into all sorts of spasms 
 and violent contortions, that meant to convey, 
 that when the ladies were gone he would enter 
 into satisfactory details.) " Must say I always 
 heard he forced it on Tom Major, made him stand 
 up there and then — vised him, as the French say — 
 as it might be you, and then — Most unpleasant 
 thing for the hotel, nearly ruined the business — 
 God bless me, Tillotson, let me ring." 
 
 Miss Millwood and Mr. Grainger had seen 
 the suffering* on his face ; the first, with alarm 
 and deep sympathy ; the other, with curiosity. 
 Suddenly Mr. Tillotson pushed back his chair. 
 
 " I have not been well lately," he said. " A 
 little air will set me right." And he abruptly 
 quitted the room. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! how very odd ?" said Mr. 
 Tilney. " A seizure, I daresay. Well, well, we 
 never know ! In the midst of life we are upset — 
 like a tree." 
 
 " I knew he was afraid of a ghost," said 
 Ross. 
 
 " He is one of Mr. Tilney 's new friends," said 
 Mrs. Tilney, apologising. " They are always do-
 
 92 THE SECOND MR?. TILT.OTSON. 
 
 iiig sometliiiig of that sort. A rather eccentric 
 person Mr. Tillotson seems. What would you 
 think, Mr. Graino'cr?" 
 
 '' My explanation would be," said Mr. Grain- 
 ger, looking round warily at everj one's face in 
 succession, " that this gentleman has had some 
 unpleasant passage in his life which this story in- 
 directly revives. Something of a very painful sort, 
 and—" 
 
 The Ijurning indignant look Ada Millwood was 
 darting at him interrupted him, and ho cast his 
 eves down aorain. 
 
 ^' That seems a little gratuitous," she said with 
 a sort of indignation ; " or if it be indeed so, he is 
 to be pitied." 
 
 '^ Certainly," said the other humbly ; " no one 
 more so." 
 
 '' What's that about the fellow having a skull 
 locked up in his store-room ? a feller says it in one 
 of the novels," said one of the officers wisely. 
 *' Every family has, you know." 
 
 " An excellent remark, Mr. Still," said Mr. 
 Tilney. " (Wine with you.) Shouldn't be sm-- 
 prised if it was the case of our friend. Tliere he 
 is, you see, walking about." 
 
 The company all looked to the window. 
 
 ^* We are making the man into Conrad the 
 Corsair, or Timour the Tartar," said Eoss impa-
 
 IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. 93 
 
 tientlj. " Let him walk if he likes. I'm sick uf 
 these mysteries, and of making up mysteries. I sup- 
 pose he's only a common banking-man from Lon- 
 don, that gets up and eats his breakfast like others. 
 Yes, yes, Ada Millwood, that frowning and scorn- 
 ful curling of your mouth will give you wrinkles, 
 my dear, if you don't mind." 
 
 Here Mr. Tillotson entered again. 
 
 " Better now ?" called Mr. Tilney to him. ^^ Ah ! 
 I thought so — quite right." 
 
 '' I get violent headaches," said Mr. Tillotson, 
 apologetically, '' which come on at the most out- 
 of-the-way times, making every one about me un- 
 comfortable." 
 
 After that, Mr. Ross became sulky, and scarcely 
 spoke during dinner. Soon Mr. Tillotson's pale 
 face began to warm up. There was an influence 
 in his manner which brought him to the sm'face 
 of any conversation, just as in society a man is 
 respected. It was no wonder, then, that Still 
 should ask Canby who that " buffer" (or " dufter") 
 was, who kept putting in his oar where he wasn't 
 wanted ? To whom Canby, Avho would have been 
 glad to tell the beer-cart story many times more, 
 said he " was some banking-prig or other." When 
 the ladies were gone up, his supremacy was con- 
 firmed. Mr. Tilney, a man of the world, had a 
 deep respect for " information ;" and what was
 
 94 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 better, so had Dr. Topliam. But still the host 
 did not forego his own share. 
 
 " Town is the place, after all," he said. '^ Help 
 yourself, Canby ; wait — finish that ;" and diving 
 down, he brought up tenderly a bottle which he 
 uncorked on a slanting stand. '^ Dear me ! I used 
 to dine with a great man, and a good man, no 
 other than H.R.H. the sailor Dook, and I have 
 often and often seen him do the very thing that 
 I'm doing, with his own hands. Did it uncommon 
 well, too. I never saw so fine an eye and steady a 
 hand for decanting. What about the match. Still ?" 
 he continued, as the claret made its last ^olian 
 chant as it entered the decanter. 
 
 " Day after to-morrow," said Mr. Still, help- 
 ing himself " To be on the green." 
 
 " Are those Wiltshire fellows any good ?" 
 
 " They have one fellow who can bowl, I believe. 
 But Pitcher's coming to us from the depot. Not 
 one of them will stand up a minute before Pitcher." 
 
 " I wonder you'd play with such a set," said 
 Ross with disgust. " They're all cads and counter- 
 jumpers. I suppose you know that ? Their cap- 
 tain's a sort of railway fellow, I believe." 
 
 " Well," said the major, " we must take what 
 we get. We can't go picking and choosing, you 
 know." 
 
 " 0, just as you like," said Ross, helping
 
 IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. 95 
 
 himself. " That's your concern, you know. I 
 like playing with gentlemen, just as a matter of 
 taste.*' 
 
 " TiUotson ! Tillotson !" called out Mr. Tilney, 
 "just come here. Come over here ! You know I 
 said I would show it to you. Still, look at this. I 
 suppose one of the most curious things you could 
 see." 
 
 Still, however, did not come. Augusta had 
 said to him, " It is only an old letter of papa's." 
 
 " Look here, Tillotson. His own writing. It 
 was just when she was born. She was christened 
 Augusta, after one of the princesses. (Helen is 
 Helen Mecklenburga.) And I wrote to H.KH. 
 the sailor Dook, as they called him, about giving 
 leave for that sort of thing — at least, to know 
 would they object. I was sitting at breakfast one 
 morning ; -sAe," nodding at Mrs. Tilney, " was 
 not quite strong enough to get down as yet — Sir 
 James said in a week she might — when tids 
 came in, just like any other letter in the world. 
 Here it is." And he kept turning a rather yellow 
 and gilt-edged letter tenderly, as if he expected 
 it to fall to pieces. " You see," holding it up to 
 the light, " his handwriting. Read it. You may. 
 No secrets." And Mr. Tillotson read it. The 
 date had been mysteriously removed, or at least 
 some one had made it as uncertain as possible :
 
 96 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 '' Dear Tilney — Call your child by any name 
 you like. Hope Mrs. T. is well over. 
 
 " Yours, William. 
 
 '' I am going to Portsmouth to-morrow. 
 
 ^' W." 
 
 " There ! " said Mr. Tilney, in admiration. 
 ^^ A prince of the blood, and just like you or I — 
 or any body else ! There was no more conceit in 
 that man, or consciousness of the exalted position 
 which he filled, than there was in that — that — " 
 said Mr. Tilney, puzzled for an illustration, and 
 seizing on the first that offered, ^Hhat paper-cutter. 
 Perhaps not so much." 
 
 He felt that this was scarcely a happy illus- 
 tration. So he took back his letter, and folded it 
 up. ''He was always doing nice things of this 
 sort," he continued. "" I could tell you a hundred 
 like them. When he went, I can — tell — you — 
 Dick Tilney lost his best friend. Augusta was 
 considered, when a child, very like one of the 
 princesses — odd, wasn't it ? — and having the same 
 name. That Avas ver^/ curious ! They are both 
 remarkable girls ; always in spirits. Listen now. 
 And yet, naturally, Augusta is serious — so serious ! 
 Look here, Tillotson," he added, confidentially; 
 " puts all that on for society, you know. Much 
 rather be melancholy ; that is, when I say melan-
 
 IN THE DRAWING-ROOM. 97 
 
 ■choly, I mean be with lier books. God Almighty 
 in his infinite goodness bless them both ! " he 
 added, with sacerdotal fervour. 
 
 "Was Miss Ada christened after one of the 
 princesses?" asked Mr. Tillotson. 
 
 " To be sure. I foro-ot. God bless her too !" 
 said Mr. Tilney, feeling a sort of delicate reproof 
 in this question. " They are all good, you know. 
 But Augusta someway — I can't express it — but 
 you will understand. By the way, you don't 
 mind Zmyi," nodding at young Ross. "A little 
 rough, you know. Sit down here, Tillotson. I 
 should like to talk to you a little. We are here 
 for a time, and then — " 
 
 Mrs. Tilney, now out of work, and with 
 her head leaning back on the cushion, called 
 softly, " Mr. Tillotson," as if she had some news 
 to tell him. " Major Canby," she whispered, 
 " has brought a new game, which he is go- 
 ing to teach them. ' Cobblers,' I think he calls it." 
 
 Augusta now came over with a pack of cards 
 in her hand. "0, Mr. Tillotson, you''\\ play 
 ^Cobblers,' won't you?" 
 
 " No, no," he said, smiling. " I never 
 heard—" 
 
 " 0, Major Canby is to teach us all. He saw 
 it at Hadbmy, Sir Thomas Groper's place." 
 
 " You know they played it there," said Major 
 
 VOL. L H
 
 98 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Canby, delivering an explanatory lecture, ^^ in a 
 different way. They were all at sea, you know, 
 when I told Lady Groper a few things, and 
 she said it made it quite a new game. .And so 
 it is." 
 
 " mamma," said Augusta, reproachfully, 
 " we must play it the way Major Canby said to 
 Lady Groper." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson then did not care to play. Miss 
 Ada was not asked (except by the gentlemen, and 
 with some anxiety), and the friend of the late 
 duke was asleep on his sofa, Avith a fallen jaw, 
 and a lank ghastly look, that once more betrayed 
 his age. Mr. Ross had gone away in disgust to 
 tJiat "vile pipe," as Mrs. Tilney said. Major 
 Canby then began his lecture, and never was 
 lecturer so applauded. But he had one " sad'* 
 pupil, who could understand and see nothing un- 
 less by practical personal illustration, the cards 
 requiring to be shifted and taken out of her hands 
 by the lecturer, the laws of this game pressing so 
 cruelly on a tender and pretty intellect. 
 
 Finally, brown-sherry came in, and Mr. Til- 
 ney, who seemed to detect its presence by instinct, 
 as camels know when they are near water, woke 
 up, and drew up his jaw. He then " tried" it, to 
 see that it was of the sort he wished to put down 
 before his guests.
 
 IN THE DRAWING-KOOM, 99 
 
 " Try this," his voice was heard ringing plain- 
 tively. " Try this, Still. Help yourself to some 
 of the old tap. Dear, dear. I could tell you 
 about the man from whose cellar I got this. Such 
 a story — in fact story after story." 
 
 Mrs. Tilney interposed. Major Canby was 
 saying farewell. 
 
 " You'll keep a place for us. Major Canby — 
 a good place — at the cricket," said Augusta. '' I 
 am dying to see cricket — real cricket, you know. 
 And, mamma, won't you ask Mr. Tillotson ?" she 
 added, conscience telling her that there were some 
 arrears here to be made up. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mr. Tilney. " To-morrow, 
 business — eh, Mr. Tillotson? We cannot have 
 that. All play and no work makes Jack, you 
 know. No, no," he added, with solemnity, 
 " pleasure first, then business, as much as you 
 like." 
 
 Not carino; to set riffht this remarkable inver- 
 sion, Mr. Tillotson excused himself from the 
 cricket, and said. Good night, to all. With the 
 departing military gentlemen, "the girls" and 
 Mrs. Tilney were in a sort of riot of voices and 
 laughing at the humour of the facetious Canby. 
 The air was filled with female voices; they "died" 
 over and over again. There was such "convul- 
 sions," "0, mammas!" "For shames!" and a
 
 100 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 hundred sucli protests — as it were, lialf entreaties, 
 half commands, that Major Canby would be mer- 
 ciful, and not go further. 
 
 In such a tumult Mr. Tillotson's farewell was 
 not likely to be noticed. Mr. Tilney, in a sor- 
 rowful way, was engaged with brown-sherry. The 
 golden-haired girl, sad and pensive, was standing 
 at the fire, her face looking down at the grate, 
 her foot on the fender, her dress not a dress, but 
 a robe. She looked like one of Ary Scheffer's 
 figures. 
 
 " Good night," said Mr. Tillotson to her. 
 
 She looked up at him with a trustful gratitude. 
 '^ I heard you say that you would not go to the 
 cricket to-morrow, and there was that dreadful 
 word, business !" 
 
 '' Business is Life, I begin to believe," he 
 said, smiling sadly. 
 
 Mr. Tilney came out with his friend to the 
 gate. The stars were out, the night was tran- 
 quil, the great cathedral was sleeping in moon- 
 light. 
 
 " After all," Mr. Tilney said, pressing his 
 friend's hand, '^ this is the sort of thing! After 
 all, we come back to tJiis at the end — like the 
 Ark. I'll walk a bit of the way with you. Dear 
 me, this is the way life goes on, one day after 
 the other, one night after another, until the
 
 IN THE DKAWING-KOOM. 101 
 
 hearse comes up, sir, and takes us away. It'll be 
 tlie same for you, you know, Tillotson, as for me." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the other, absently, 
 and not meaning to assent specially to this truth. 
 " And the sooner, perhaps the best for us all. 
 Does Miss Millwood," he added, a little abruptly, 
 " does she stay with you all the year, or has she 
 a home of her own ?" 
 
 " Ada, you mean," said Mr. Tilney, stopping 
 in the road. " No, sir. There," and he pointed 
 back with his stick, '' that little abode, always 
 so free from grief and care — the Boost, as I may 
 call it, is hers — always will be hers, while there is 
 a stick of furniture together, or a crust, or a scrap 
 of meat, or — or, the cruets on the sideboard." 
 
 " I see," said Mr. Tillotson, " as the child of 
 a dear friend — " 
 
 " Harry Millwood was, I may say, next door 
 but one to a relation. Sir, I knew every corner 
 and cranny of that man as well as I do you — I 
 mean, as I do my own grandfather — or did, I 
 mean. Living in the palace in that way — ^he was 
 equerry, you know — they never icoidd do any 
 thing for him ; and yet, upon my soul, I couldn't 
 blame 'em. He broke down, sir — he had to break 
 down — give the thing up — with a Avife and child 
 on him. Had to — to cut. Cut, sir, under an 
 assumed name, the which rather, you Imow, gave
 
 102 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 me a little turn. Come weal, come woe, I like 
 a fellow to stand by the name he took before 
 God in his bajotism." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Tillotson, eagerly, "so they 
 had to go away?" 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Tilney, " he died. Died," 
 added he, mysteriously looking round, " abroad, 
 in a very odd way. I am not at liberty to men- 
 tion the circumstances, Tillotson ; I am not, in- 
 deed. God knows I would keep nothing from 
 you. But I cannot, indeed. But it was a sud- 
 den, and a violent, and a di'eadful end." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson stopped this time. They were 
 at the old gray gateway which is the entrance 
 to the Close, dappled over with other grays, and 
 casting a grotesque shadow on the ground about 
 them. But the moonlight played about their two 
 faces, and Mr. Tillotson' s face seemed the palest 
 of the tw^o. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Tilney. " It was as 
 tragic a business — as heart-breaking a thing as 
 you'd see — as you'd see at Drury Lane. I went 
 over to them — I was abroad at the time, but I 
 went over to 'em. Such a state of things ! My 
 God ! That child in a fever—" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson shuddered. "Miss Ada? What 
 a world it is !" he said, in a low voice, " and what 
 miserable, guilty creatm'es we all are !"
 
 ]2^ THE DRAWING-ROOM. 103 
 
 " So we all are," repeated Mr. Tilney, as if he 
 was in the cathedral, and leading off the chanting. 
 " Eveiy one of ns, Tillotson, prince and peasant. 
 Tlie only thing is, I believe, to hold fast by thaV'* 
 And he pointed back over his shonlder to the 
 cathedral, now a good way out of sight. " Ah ! 
 all I went through in those days ! But the 
 curious thing is, my dear Tillotson, the girl knows 
 nothing of this. Not a word — not a breath, 
 mind." 
 
 "What?" said Mr. Tillotson, starting, " no- 
 thing about the manner of her father's death ?" 
 
 '^Nothing; she thinks to this hour, at this 
 very moment, that he was carried off by an ague 
 of the country. She herself recovered her senses 
 in about a week after all was liappily got over — 
 funeral and all that — and we never told her. 
 What was the use, you know ? 
 
 " What a strange story !" said Mr. Tillot- 
 son, more to himself than to his friend. " I 
 seemed to read something of the kind in her 
 soft gentle face, a kind of sad, subdued melan- 
 choly." 
 
 " 'Pon my word, yes ; and I recollect Tom 
 Harrison — a man of the ^ery best style and con- 
 nections, you know — making precisely the same 
 remark. ' She's a c[uiet, nunnish look,' says 
 Tom, who, between you and me, knew pretty
 
 1C4 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 well about that sort of thing. Well, here we 
 part, I suppose ; you to the right hand, and I ta 
 the left: You know there must come one dread 
 day when we must file away right and left. And 
 what our only ft)undation is, you and I know- 
 Good night, God bless you I God Almighty bless 
 you, Tillotson ! To-morrow at twelve, then — or 
 was it nine? Yes, quite right. Good night!" 
 
 And after Mr. Tillotson was gone he remained 
 a long time at the garden-gate, pensively looking; 
 up at what he called "the wonderful works of the 
 Creator." Mr. Tillotson went home as pensively, 
 thinking, perhaps, of one other work, to him al- 
 most as wonderful.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CRICKET. 
 
 When Mr. Tillotson got back to liis White Hart, 
 lie found by significant sounds tliat a party of 
 gentlemen were enjoying tliemselves, and tliat 
 these were the champions of the North W^iltshire 
 club, who were about celebrating an anticipated 
 victory. Their captain, Pitcher, of whom one of 
 the military gentlemen had already spoken in 
 terms of praise, was in the chair. They kept 
 up their carousal very late, and prevented many 
 worthy guests from sleeping. But these revels 
 did not interfere with whatever waking dreams 
 were floatino; throuo^h Mr. Tillotson's brain. He 
 was travelling back to that small house on the 
 common, which Avas so filled with its half-a-dozen 
 tenants, and yet where there was one that lived 
 all but solitary — more lonely even than if she 
 were living by herself in a great dismal shut-up 
 castle. For this miserable abandonment in a 
 crowd, for this desolation among many faces, he 
 had the deepest compassion and tenderness. It
 
 106 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 came lionie to himself, and perliaps lie was think- 
 ing of that compassion, almost as tender and 
 pitying as his own, which he had seen in the 
 soft Scheffer face. Tlie anxieties of the bank 
 were far away, or at least softened into the dis- 
 tance. 
 
 The next mornino; Mr. Tillotson went to busi- 
 ness, and to practical business. Before noon he 
 had found an excellent site for the future bank 
 — before noon, too, he had discovered a quiet, 
 sensible man of business, with good local know- 
 ledge ; and though Mr. Tilney had recommended 
 another, with infinitely higher qualifications, he 
 did not select him. He had found out, too, the 
 general resources of the place, weighed its chances 
 of joiner back or o-ettino; forward — the last the 
 most promising. There was a new railway pro- 
 mised, a new market talked of; in short, it was 
 the soil foi* a great financial oak to strike root 
 m and flourish. 
 
 The same useful authority gave him some 
 useful hints as to the choice of local directors, 
 who were to sit, as it were, on the branches of 
 the great oak, and have an acorn or so for their 
 own private use. There was young Welbeck, 
 Lord Holyoake's son, a local hunting lord, who 
 was agricultural, and interested in the Condition 
 of the Poor and the Labouring Man's Dwellings,
 
 THE CRICKET. 107 
 
 and who moved in a sanitary cloud. The Hon. 
 Welbeck, who had nothing to do, and coming of 
 such a stock, would do well for a chairman. The 
 intelliirent solicitor told him a o-ood deal about Mr. 
 Tilney, whose name, after some consideration, he- 
 was inclined to believe, would not add strength 
 to the direction. He was a little embarrassed 
 at discovering this, for he had an uneasy instinct 
 that his friend expected some such proof of con- 
 fidence in him. 
 
 "A little too much sherry, you see," said the 
 solicitor — "perfectly upright and honourable, but, 
 I should say, could not well depend on himself" 
 
 And Mr. Tillotson saw, with regret, that it 
 could not be done. For, through all that mixture 
 of natural religion, the late " Dook," the paternal 
 interest, walking-stick, and brown-sherry, Mr. 
 Tillotson saw a kind of good nature, and some 
 feeling, though it was all "humped" and con- 
 torted by the constrained false and fashionable 
 postures he had been sitting in for years. He 
 icislied he could do something for this old soldier 
 of fine life, and wished, as he fancied, sincerely; 
 but perhaps it was for the sake of some one else — 
 from a spirit of pleasant self-delusion, which is 
 common enouo-li. 
 
 With this work he filled -in the morning. 
 Meanwhile, on a green field, the Prado of tlie
 
 108 THE SECOND MES. TILLOTSON. 
 
 town, a grand festival was being held. The sun 
 was bright, and streamed do^^'n on a white tent, 
 and on many bright bonnets, and parasols, and 
 shawls. The Northern Eleven, under the cap- 
 taincy of the famous Pitcher, were battling with 
 the military eleven. The band was drawn up at 
 one side, playing airs, and over the field were 
 dotted a few white figures in all the dandyism 
 of the game, " encumbered" with spikes in the 
 heels, and mysterious gloves, and greaves like a 
 Roman soldier's, while some stood with their 
 hands on their knees, appearing to be ^' offering 
 a back" to some one, but in reality only carry- 
 ing out the true proficient's attitude of the game. 
 According to long-established routine, the game 
 did not appear to advance very fast, for at about 
 intervals of two minutes the whole party seemed 
 about to break up and disperse, the white gen- 
 tlemen folding their arms and walking leisurely 
 to different parts of the field, crossing each other 
 as if they had had quite enough of the business, 
 and were going home. But in this they only meant 
 to shuffle themselves like cards, and create a sort 
 of variety. Every now and again came a sharp 
 crack when the Avhite man at the wicket struck 
 the ball, which, by an instinct, produced an 
 electric spasm in every other white man far and 
 near, who stooped, and gave fresh and sudden
 
 THE CRICKET. 109 
 
 "backs," and swayed to tlie riglit and left, and 
 looked along the ground, all expressing vigilance 
 more or less. Sometimes the ball slipped past 
 the white man who was stopping, and who had 
 to go off in pursuit, and then the two batsmen 
 were seen "running" feiously, and the whole 
 company of far-oiF white men, in a state of agi- 
 tation, gesticulating, and looking out nervously 
 after their brother who was pursuing the ball. 
 
 Tlie girls had not come down as yet, and, in 
 fact, would not arrive until about three. Mr. 
 Tillotson, having done enough work for the day, 
 was thinking doubtfully whether he could, in- 
 deed, find in the White Hart sufficient entertain- 
 ment for what remained, or whether, after all ' 
 
 "when he heard a cheerful voice in the passage. 
 
 " I've come for you," said Mr. Tilney, cheer- 
 fully. "They're all out on the green. But the 
 girls are not gone as yet. I promised to step 
 down for you. For we want to make a party, 
 and come on the ground in grand style." 
 
 It was a pity they were so pressed for time, 
 otherwise a few minutes' communion with brown- 
 sherry would have come in suitably. As it was, 
 Mr. Tilney was looking round restlessly for some- 
 thing to complete his comfort. But he felt there 
 was really no time. 
 
 The White Hart was dismal enough, and Mr.
 
 110 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Tillotson, although he made some protest, felt that 
 the change was a relief. Mr. Tilney talked to 
 him, on the way, of his usual topics. One re- 
 mark he made was, that it was odd, now, that 
 we should find the girls at this place, for they 
 hated showing themselves at public places. 
 
 *'You know, Tillotson, and you have seen 
 what they like ; their tastes are for the little sort 
 of thing we had last night. But their mother 
 and I think it better, you know — " 
 
 When they were close to the house, they met 
 a friendly local doctor, whom Mr. Tilney in a 
 moment had by the arm, with some secret of 
 importance. 
 
 " Go on, Tillotson," he said. " You know 
 the way. You'll find them in the drawing-room. 
 JSTo ceremony." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson walked on. The little m'een 
 gate was open, and so was the hall-door. He 
 walked up pensively, and his footsteps made no 
 noise upon the gravel. 
 
 At that moment there was a curious discus- 
 sion going on inside. The ladies had come from 
 their chamber in bright and new gloves. They 
 might have been going to a wedding. They had 
 found the Cinderella of the house also dressed, 
 not nearly so splendidly, but almost more effec- 
 tively. That golden hair, which could be seen
 
 THE CRICKET. Ill 
 
 SO far off under the sun, was worth all the lace 
 shawls and finery which decked her sisters and 
 mamma. They were indignant. 
 
 " We may as well stay at home," Augusta 
 now said. " I give up. I don't want to be 
 going to these places in a tribe, like a school. I 
 feel quite ashamed." 
 
 Ada said softly : ^^ I don't care in the least 
 for it, indeed ; only William made such a point 
 of it, and made me promise last night — " 
 
 The morning silks rustled and flustered with 
 indignation. 
 
 " What a romance !" said Helen scornfully. 
 ^^ What a lover to be proud of! I should be 
 ashamed !" 
 
 Mrs. Tilney now came in, armed with a sharp 
 parasol all covered witli lace. She saw the third 
 girl, and the smile, which she had put on with 
 her bonnet, dropped down, as a glass drops from 
 a gentleman's eye." 
 
 "This ends it," she said. "What is the 
 meaning of this new fit of gaiety? You must 
 stay at home, ma'am, or go by yourself. Though, 
 I suppose," she added impatiently, " we must take 
 you, or we shall have some scene with that rude 
 low man before people." 
 
 " I know what it is," said Augusta, working 
 her chin at her bonnet-strings as if she were
 
 112 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 champing lier bit. " I know it perfectly well, 
 mamma. She has laid herself out for that Mr. 
 Tillotsori who was here last nioht. 1 was watch- 
 ing her artful tricks while we were talking to 
 Major Canby — trying him with her melancholy 
 airs and her dismal stories." 
 
 Three foces of scorn and indignation were bent 
 on the timid girl, who was coloui'ing in con- 
 fusion ; three parasols were grasped tightly as 
 though they were falchions. Mrs. Tilney rustled 
 violently past a chair and flung her dress back, 
 as if it were in fault. 
 
 '' I saw her, too, Augusta. But we won't 
 have these doings, ma'am, if you please. Just 
 keep in your room," &c. &c. 
 
 Mr. Tilney, hurrying from the friendly doc- 
 tor, met Mr. Tillotson coming to him. "Why, 
 bless me, why didn't you go in? Now this is 
 unfair, standing on ceremony with me I Ah, Til- 
 lotson, Tillotson !" And with a gentle force he 
 led him back again. 
 
 They met the ladies at the door, who were 
 light-hearted and full of happiness and a childish 
 gaiety and affection. They were the mere inno- 
 cent butterflies of life, who lived for the hour 
 in eternal sunshine and eternal good humom\ 
 This was the idea they presented to the eye of 
 a mortal like Mr. Tillotson. Mrs. Tilney had
 
 THE CRICKET. 113 
 
 fitted on her smile again. Three new fresh pale 
 kid gloves were put in his hand, and each glove 
 was accompanied with a dimpling smile. 
 
 "Where's Ada?" said Mr. Tilney. "She's 
 coming, I know." 
 
 " I don't think she's quite able," said Mrs. 
 Tilney, with some hesitation. 
 
 " She's not coming, papa," said Miss Augusta, 
 shortly. 
 
 "IsTonsense!" said Mr. Tilney; "the air will 
 do her good. There, I see her in the drawing- 
 room with her bonnet on. God bless me ! I 
 knew she was coming ; I told you so." 
 
 Sometimes Mr. Tilney made stupid " bung- 
 ling" mistakes of this sort, which arose out of a 
 momentary enthusiasm and happiness in the con- 
 templation of the works of his Maker. This feel- 
 ing often carried him away. Mrs. Tilney walked 
 on without replying, the smile having dropped 
 again. And Augusta, who had all the versatility 
 of a social " Stonewall" Tilney, suddenly changed 
 her " base," and seemed to long for the company 
 of Ada. " I shall run and tell her, Mr. Tillot- 
 son," she said, confidentially, " and mahe her 
 come." And thus the golden-haired girl had 
 to come with them. 
 
 But there was a great change in Mr. Tillotson. 
 He was in what, with him, approached nearest 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 to spirits. He talked to Miss Augusta witli a 
 ^^ light" manner that seemed quite strange in him. 
 His face cleared a little. 
 
 They came on the ground together in splendid 
 procession. It was happily chosen as the gayest 
 moment of the day. The white men were still 
 dotted about, with their hands on their knees, and 
 going tlu'ough their other masonic movements ; 
 but no one took much interest in them now. The 
 band was playing a selection from Faust, arranged 
 by H. Hartzmann, the courteous and skilful con- 
 ductor, who, disdaining a uniform, w^as wearing 
 a broad-brimmed hat and frock, and conducting 
 with wicked and angry glances at his men ; and 
 close to the band was the chief attraction. For 
 here were chairs and white parasols, and fresh 
 faces under the parasols, and gallant gentlemen 
 leaning over and talking down to the sitting 
 ladies, without the least sense of being under the 
 Bun that was shining, and of the smooth grass 
 under their feet, and of the pleasant breezes, and 
 of the pretty view that Avas all round. As the 
 little procession, whom we have accompanied part 
 of the way, debouched, gallant gentlemen, with 
 the natural craving for novelty, abandoned the 
 ladies in the chairs, and flocked round the new- 
 comers. Among these deserters were Messrs. 
 Still and Canby. This was the moment when
 
 THE CmCKET. 115 
 
 an artificial excitement was created by tlie news 
 that Pitcher was bowling, or going to bowl, and 
 that DafFy was just "going in." 
 
 " Wait nntil you see what Daffy can do," said 
 Mr. Still confidentially to the ladies. " Ho has 
 the finest hand. He'll show 'em." 
 
 Here, too, was young Ross lounging about. 
 It Avas he who cried " Bravo !" with marked de- 
 rision when Mr. Daffy was bowled out, and ironi- 
 cally congratulated him. " At any rate," he said, 
 '^ we could see by the way you held your bat what 
 you loould have done." He had looked on very 
 sourly as he saw the little procession draw near, 
 and when a young lady asked him Avho that 
 gentleman was with the Tilneys, he had answered 
 brusquely, " Some fellow that's come down here 
 out of a counting-house, I believe — and don't he 
 look like one ? No, I don't mean that. But he 
 is a sort of banking man. You understand. Brass 
 shovel — ' How will you have it ?' and all that sort 
 of thing." 
 
 The young lady laughed. " But he seems to 
 be handsome and gentlemanly — " 
 
 He looked at her impatiently. " That's just 
 it. The young men up at Trimmer's shop in the 
 town there, don't they seem gentlemanly enough ? 
 Every body is, or ought to look, gentlemanly now- 
 a-days."
 
 116 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 To Mr. Tillotson he gave liis old scowl and 
 rude rough nod, and a rougher " How d'ye do ?" 
 then Avalked brusquely up to Ada, who kept 
 timidly in the background. He spoke to her 
 in a low voice, which, by his face, seemed to 
 be a harsh one. He had a bat in his hand, with 
 which he beat the grass as he spoke. Major 
 Canby and his friends were now so amusing that 
 Mr. Tillotson found himself necrlected. He was 
 watching, and saw her shrink away, almost in 
 alarm, from his unkind attack. Mr. Tillotson 
 came round a little closer, drawn by some attrac- 
 tion, and then the girl seeing him a little suddenly, 
 came closer to him, and it had all the look of 
 coming to him for protection. Ensign Ross fol- 
 lowed, still swinging his bat. " Would you like 
 to see a heroine," he asked him, "a regular 
 heroine, with a sad face, and suflPering persecu- 
 tion ? Look -here ! I hate victims ! I have no 
 patience with them. Not treated with respect 
 enough at home — cruel sisters, eh? Life a bur- 
 den ? What has put you out ?" 
 
 She looked sadly distressed — more vexed than 
 distressed, perhaps — at this public attack. Mr. 
 Tillotson felt the colour coming to his cheeks. 
 
 Mr. Ross saw this colour coming, and resented 
 it. " Well, what do you say ? Am I not right ? 
 Can't you speak, Mr. Tillotson?"
 
 THE CRICKET. 117 
 
 " Well, I merely say that if you liate, I pity 
 victims, as you call them." 
 
 " 0, indeed !" said the other, with mock re- 
 S2:)ect ; " this is getting charming. Something in 
 the champion way. I see ! Well, you won't be 
 angry, but I dislike champions also. It's far too 
 melodramatic a business for me.''^ 
 
 She moved away impatiently. He followed, 
 still with his bat, and with the same sarcastic 
 smile, kept whispering something rapidly. She 
 turned back as quickly and with a kind of ha- 
 rassed fretfulness, and in a soft imploring voice, 
 said, and her words reached Mr. Tillotson, '' Do, 
 ■do leave me in peace I" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was next her in a moment. 
 "Come round here, Miss Millwood," he said; 
 " you will see the cricket better ; round to this 
 side." And he had quickly led her away, leaving 
 Mr. Ross looking after them half astonished, half 
 disgusted. 
 
 " That rude unkind man," said Mr. Tillotson, 
 ii little excitedly, "how can you bear with him? 
 Forgive me, but I heard what he said, and what 
 you said." 
 
 " I suppose he docs not mean it; the old ex- 
 cuse." 
 
 " The charitable excuse, if you will," he an- 
 swered. " But I have seen many faces, and am
 
 118 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOX. 
 
 obliged to sec many ; and from what Us face 
 tells me there can be no such excuse. Dear Miss^ 
 Ada," he added, with a little fervour, "believe 
 that I know, or can guess, at something of your 
 life, and perhaps something of what you are 
 forced to suffer here — " 
 
 She started. 
 
 "And I think it hard — cruel even — that a 
 man should venture to behave as he does. It is 
 unworthy — unmanly. ' ' 
 
 She only answered, without lifting her eyes 
 from the ground, " You knoAV what I told you 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Ah!" he answered, warmly, "but he does 
 7wt mean well ! This delicacy and indulgence 
 may be carried too far. These are the mere per- 
 verse and wicked humours of a tyrannical mind. 
 I know human character pretty well. That sensi- 
 tiveness is all absurd ; and, dear Miss Millwood, 
 if you will trust to me, or be advised by one who 
 has a deep interest in you — " 
 
 " 0, you are so good, so kind," she said, with 
 that air of devotion which so often came upon her. 
 " But there are reasons I must not tell you. I 
 must bear and wait a little longer." 
 
 Meanwhile, Pitcher had been bowling in most 
 splendid fashion. Soldier after soldier went out 
 with a plunge. The normal attitude of the wicket-
 
 THE CRICKET. 11^ 
 
 sticks was that of being awry. Nor did Pitcher 
 content himself with these prodigies. He had 
 other feats ; and once so scared a mihtary gentle- 
 man by rushing at the ball the latter had just 
 struck, and launching it with sudden violence 
 at the wicket, that he slipped and fell from sheer 
 surprise and nervousness, and was quickly " out.'* 
 Victory, therefore, declared for Pitcher and the 
 North Wiltshires.
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE OEGAN. 
 
 The clay wore on. The sun had travelled across 
 the field, and the calm of evening began to set in 
 quickly. The cricketers were growing fatigued ; 
 but the untiring ladies showed no sign of flagging 
 interest. For them there was no monotony in the 
 spectacle ; at least, the succession of gentlemen who 
 came up and amused the Miss Tilneys prevented 
 their taking much heed of the passage of time. Of 
 Mr. Tillotson, absent, dreamy, and silent, they had 
 long since ceased to make any account. About 
 four, he had wandered away unnoticed towards 
 the old cathedral, which, with the enclosed green, 
 and the little Close, and the old-fashioned houses, 
 had becrun to have a sort of attraction for him. 
 There had been Service there that day as usual; 
 but it had been a very deserted ritual. And 
 Fugle, the seraphic tenor, had to expend notes, 
 that properly belonged to the cherubim above, on 
 two old ladies and a mildewed ancient, dotted 
 among the lugubrious stalls, and on a tourist
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE ORGAN. 121 
 
 who, book in liandj and studying the monuments, 
 looked in curiously at some angelic cry of Fugle's, 
 but cautiously took care not to be imprisoned 
 within the great gates of the choir. When Mr. 
 Tillotson walked among the grass, he heard the 
 billows of the oro^an still roUino; and swellino- 
 within. He went in. Bliss was practising above. 
 There was no one else there. His footsteps echoed 
 as through some vast stone grotto. He was quite 
 alone, and walked softly into an oaken stall to 
 listen to Bliss, Musical Doctor, Oxon. 
 
 It was a soft, solemn, stalking theme of Bach's, 
 grand, old-fashioned, and piquant, like music in 
 bag- wig and ruffles and square-cut coat — music 
 that ambles on in a solemn canter round anJ 
 round in a ring, with quaint curvets and back- 
 ings for any length of time, with a very charm- 
 ing monotony — that finally wakes up into a gvayid 
 .Tondej and ends triumphantly, like the last burst 
 of a procession. Mr. Tillotson in his stall, with 
 two comic lions with twisted tails and a paw 
 leaning on a shield on each side of his head, 
 thought of Dr. Bliss and his powers, and was 
 wondering whetlier the dull bricklayer's-work of 
 lessons, teaching, and the like, dulled this fine 
 sense of music, and whether this grand power fell 
 into a fatal routine also, when he heard the rattle 
 of closing stops and the locking of the organ-doors.
 
 122 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Doctor Bliss was going liome. He stood out in 
 the middle, looking up at the great gallery ; and, 
 as he did so, the organist glided across. But it 
 was not Doctor Bliss. Heavy shadows were float- 
 ing up among the groined arches; but with a 
 quick instinct he knew the outline of that figure, 
 and walked up to her quicldy and stopped her. 
 By the same instinct she knew him. 
 
 ^' I have been listening," he said, " in that 
 old dark stall — I thought it was Doctor Bliss — and 
 have been delighted." 
 
 " He lets me play in the evening sometimes. 
 It is the greatest treat I can have. It is quite a 
 world for me, that noble old organ, with life, 
 fancies, intellect, every thing. In its company I 
 forget every thing." 
 
 "Just as I," he said, "when listening, have 
 forgotten every thing in the Avorld too. I have 
 never been what is called musical ; but I can 
 follow and understand Avhat I have just heard." 
 
 "But there are very few who are musical," she 
 said in her serious way, and smoothing down her 
 yellow hair, which rivalled an illumined patch of 
 amber glass just above. " They are taught in- 
 struments and notes ; but that is scarcely music." 
 Then she said abruptly : " You have spoken more 
 than once of troubles, and some secret bitterness 
 which is to be irrecoverable. May I speak to you
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE OEGAN. 123 
 
 freely? May an inexperienced girl give a little 
 advice?" 
 
 " And I shall promise to try and follow it, 
 too," he answered eagerly. ''Indeed I shall! 
 Wh}^, near yonr wisdom ours is all foolishness. 
 Do speak, Miss Millwood." 
 
 " You have been so good to me," she went on 
 (and the two figures standing there under the great 
 gallery looked picturesque even to the verger, who 
 had come to lock up, but went away softly, recog- 
 nising her), — even from the first night when you 
 made me a promise which I had no right to ask of 
 you, — that I ivill speak to you without restraint. 
 If you had some dreadful trouble, — some terrible 
 blight, — why should you sit down under it, or take 
 it with you all through life ? Believe me, we 
 should all struggle ; and after we have indulged 
 ourselves in a sorrow and repentance, perhaps, 
 for a time, — let it be a long time even, — we 
 should then think of life and its duties. Dear 
 Mr. Tillotson, I do not want to run into what 
 comes from that pulpit there every Sunday; but 
 I myself was once inclined to do as you do — to 
 drag hopelessly through life ; but — " 
 
 "It is too kind of you," he said excitedly — 
 "too generous; and indeed, if I dare, or if I could, 
 I would carry out what you say, though I shut 
 my ears to the platitudes poured out by others. But
 
 124 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 yon do not know — yon emit know all, Miss Mill- 
 wood ! Sorrows and troubles ! Yes ; I were 
 blessed indeed, if all known misfortunes were 
 poured out on me : ruin, poverty, sickness, any 
 thing. You will think this extravagance. But I 
 know how to struggle, and would welcome such 
 trials. But there are other thin^^s that must walk 
 with us through life till we reach our graves. That, 
 nothing lieve can atone for. That gives us a 
 dismal pleasure in gloom and misery, because we 
 know the more we suffer the more we are 
 
 She answered him as excitedly as he had 
 spoken ; and the setting sunlight outside came 
 now in a gorgeous slant from the amber panes 
 right on the amber hair. 
 
 '^ Why," she said, " this is the hopeless doomed 
 Calvinist's faith — despairing, wretched, hopeless! 
 It makes me miserable to hear you talk so ; it 
 fills me with despair. I don't know your sad 
 history. But no matter what has happened. I 
 conjure you and implore ; I would go down on 
 my knees here, in this sacred place, to ask you, 
 dear Mr. Tillotson, to fly from yourself and banish 
 this fatal, miserable, destroying idea !" 
 
 ^' And what am I to do?" he said, putting his 
 hand to his forehead. ''' Ah ! i^ you preach, I must 
 listen. Call it destroying, despairing, horrible —
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE OKGAN. 125 
 
 what you like. But you do not know — you cannot 
 guess — " 
 
 " I can look into your face," slie said con- 
 fidently, "and see none of the cold hard lines of 
 guilt. I can tell that you have been, to use the 
 common hackneyed form, more sinned against than 
 sinning. That, when young, you have been foolish, 
 thoughtless, and have thus done things which 
 others do coldly and with guilty premeditation — " 
 
 " 0," he said, " it is indeed as you say. I dare 
 sometimes flatter myself it is so. Thank you a 
 thousand and a thousand times over for this kind 
 judgment. I sliall think of it, and force myself to 
 believe it. You say you look in my ftice ; but can ^ 
 you look at this hand ? Ah ! is there no physiog- 
 nomy in the hand !" 
 
 She shrank back a little. " It is not for me," 
 she said, "to pass judgment; nor do I wish to 
 know the course of any one's past life. That is 
 for his conscience." 
 
 " They have not jont ^ Confessionals' round this, 
 cathedral," he said bitterly. " I wish to Heaven 
 sometimes they had. I saw you turn away. Miss 
 Millwood. You see I judged myself better, after 
 all, than yoit could do." 
 
 "No, indeed," she said eagerly, and coming 
 back close to him again ; " you mistake. You 
 spoke so mysteriously."
 
 126 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ^^ And yet you must not," lie said, " take with 
 you a wrong impression. Whatever was done was 
 forced upon me." 
 
 " And tell me," she said suddenly ; " have you 
 no relative — no sister, father, or mother ?" 
 
 " Not one left," he said in a strange steady 
 key of despair that went to her heart; ^^ and yet 
 it all rested with me !" 
 
 With a start she shrank away. 
 
 ^^Ah! I see it," he said bitterly. ^^ How 
 empty are professions ! No matter ; I was young, 
 and careless, and wicked. ' Wild ' is the gentle 
 word of the world. I was wilder than even those 
 complimented as wild. I was sent abroad to 
 save them at home from disgrace, although it 
 nearly broke their hearts. But it had to be done. 
 We are not in a confessional. Miss Millwood ; but 
 I am telling you every thing. I went away reck- 
 lessly, rejoicing at being free then and for ever. 
 After a time my father, ill and broken, sent for 
 me. I in part disbelieved the illness ; in part was 
 too proud, and said, ' Let them come to me, since 
 they sent me away from them ;' in j^art listened 
 to some wicked friends who were real ' men of the 
 world.' Yet I did feel— I did indeed, Miss Mill- 
 wood ; though I cannot expect you to believe me." 
 
 '^ How you mistake !" she answered. " I be- 
 lieve you, and feel for you. Indeed I do."
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE OEGAN. 127 
 
 '' But you have not heard all. There came a 
 passionate letter from her, laying his death at my 
 door ; calling me her hushand's murderer ; telling 
 me to be an outcast, never to come near her, to 
 end my wretched course as soon as I pleased, and 
 let her end hers. That roused my wretched pride 
 again; and 0, Miss Millwood, what will you 
 think of me? I went on from worse to what 
 was yet worse. One vile story after another 
 travelled home about me, some true, some false; 
 but all reaching, until came tliat most fatal story 
 of all, which, 0, Miss Millwood, ivas tome, truCj 
 and ever must be true !" He could not go on. 
 
 But, in a voice of the tenderest sweetness, she 
 said to him, " There, you must not think or talk 
 of these things. I can understand. I don't wish 
 to know more. And still I rej^eat what I have 
 said before : whatever has happened, you must try 
 and struggle. It is a duty, and the best atone- 
 ment you can make to that lost jmrent." 
 
 '^ Ah i" he said despairingly. " Dear Miss 
 Millwood, I must go on as I have gone on. I 
 have indeed tried travel, books, and now busi- 
 ness, hard, constant, laborious business. I am 
 longing to get up a r/reed of money. If that 
 were to take possession of me body and soul, I 
 might drive the other enemy out ; but, someway, 
 should it not be kept there ? It is better to go on
 
 128 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 to tlic end even as it was at the bemnnino;. Tliouo;li 
 since I have come down here, I seem to have got 
 upon more quiet waters. What with this cathe- 
 dral and its old-world associations, this little en- 
 closm'e about it, and its air of peace and happi- 
 ness, I seem to be less wretched, or rather, it 
 seems to me that there is less misery in the world. 
 And some words of yours, dear Miss Millwood, 
 have sunk deeper than perhaps you would fancy." 
 
 The great pillars and arches had begun to cast 
 broader and broader shadows. The light behind 
 the amber panes had gradually faded, and left 
 them cold and dull. The glories of the sunset 
 had gone down. The monument to the Yeomanry 
 Captain looked like a spectral dining furniture 
 set out for a ghostly banquet. Suddenly two 
 figures came round the corner, and stopped be- 
 fore them. 
 
 '^ So we have found you ! Come," said Eoss, 
 roughly, " what does all this mean? Nice work ! 
 Is this a place for you? Don't you know how 
 long they have been looking for you?" 
 
 "I am coming," she said, softly. " I was 
 playing—" 
 
 Ross laughed. His laugh echoed harshly 
 through that great cave. " You hear that. How 
 ready a woman is with her excuse ! Why, we 
 didn't hear a sound this hour back. Perhaps you
 
 ST. CECILIA AT THE ORGAN. 129 
 
 were playing also — an undiscovered accomplisli- 
 ment." 
 
 " Let ns go away now," she said, hastily. 
 ■^^ Don't let us lose time. Come, Mr. Tillotson." 
 
 She Avent on in front with Mr. Tillotson. The 
 other two followed hastily. 
 
 "We were unfortunate," said Boss's friend, 
 " that we came too late for the music. I should 
 like to have heard that old instrument trembling 
 and roaring under your fingers. Miss Millwood." 
 
 " And don't forget our friend, who hates 
 cricket, and I suppose dropped in here by the 
 merest accident," said Ross. 
 
 " It icas accident," said Mr. Tillotson, calmly ; , 
 " but Avhat of it, supposing it were not ? This 
 cathedral, a wonderful exception, is, I believe, 
 always kept open like the foreign ones." 
 
 " Ready always at repartee, is he not ? Mr. 
 Tillotson, the London banker, can give us lessons 
 down here. Can't he. Bob?" 
 
 "Why should you say that?" said his friend. 
 " Why, you are as bitter as an almond. Con- 
 found you, why, if you spoke that way to a 
 Mexican gent, he'd have you out on horseback 
 in ten minutes, with a Colt's repeating musket 
 opposite. My dear friend, you must keep your 
 tongue in order. You won't meet every one with 
 such restraint and moderation as this gentleman." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 TPIE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 The banker coloured. " Mr. Eoss knows I 
 have not restrained myself neai'ly so mucli as I 
 ought to have done." 
 
 Eoss stamped his foot savagely down on the 
 pavement. 
 
 "Ah! that would be different, of course," 
 said Graincrer. 
 
 " Will you stop ?" said Eoss, his face glowing 
 suddenly, and his eyes glaring. " What is this 
 you mean ? Come on in front — I wish to speak 
 to you," he said, seizing her arm. " Come 
 quickly;" and he almost dragged her on. 
 
 " Our friend," said Grainger, nodding his 
 head, "is a little rough at times ; but he is 
 really good, and means well." 
 
 In a few minutes they were at home.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN. 
 
 It was impossible to witlistand the accolade manner 
 of Mr. Tilney — liis absorbing Friend-of-Man de- 
 portment ; and, if this could be withstood, it was 
 equally hopeless to think of battling against the 
 Friend of Man, sensitive, and meaning well, and 
 wounded. But he was really good-natured. 
 
 " It is like fresh air to me to get a gentleman 
 now and then into the house. I have been accus- 
 tomed to that sort of thing — to sit with the best, 
 with his late Majesty, Jack Norman, and a hun- 
 dred such. The best dishes, sir, the best clothes, 
 the best men and women, sir! And then to be 
 cocked down in a miserable hole like this ! A 
 low nest of psalm-singers and tailors. I tell you 
 now, once for all, it's not a fit place for a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 This tone was inconsistent with Mr. Tilney's 
 previous praises of the tranquil pleasures of the 
 cathedral, whose special charms, he had often 
 insisted, lay in its retirement and simplicity, as
 
 132 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 contrasted with the false pleasures of high society. 
 As if too Mr. Tillotson had been urging perti- 
 naciously that it ivas a place for a gentleman. 
 But the day had been very warm, the sun beat- 
 ing down on his forehead, and Mr. Tilney was 
 seen to go in and out very often of the cricketing 
 tent, where he had found out and perhaps wooed, 
 the maiden. Brown Sherry. Presently he grew ru- 
 minative. (This was at the door of his own 
 house.) " How about your plan," he asked — 
 ^Hhe directors of the new scheme? You will 
 have gentlemen, of course — fellows that won't 
 rob the till? But you won't fish many gentle- 
 men out of this place. If I can help you, my 
 dear fi'iend, or my name can be of use, or my 
 cousin. Lord Chinnery, don't be afraid to speak. 
 In fact, I should like it. I have often wished 
 for something to do." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was a little embarrassed. He 
 would have liked to have served this old soldier 
 of society. '^ Why, you see," he answered, " Mr. 
 Tilney, I can decide nothing as yet. I am afraid 
 it is the class of purely business-men that we 
 want — men that have been trained to things of 
 this kind. But later, I daresay — " In short, a 
 series of the good-natured commonplaces by which 
 the fall of a refusal is broken. Mr. Tilney was not 
 vexed.
 
 . AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN, 135 
 
 "Well, I suppose so," lie said. "It's gene- 
 rally my luck. I recollect tlie Dook, who cared 
 for me about as much as he did for any man, 
 saying to me, ^ Ask me for something, Tilney, 
 one of these days. Don't be afraid about it. If 
 I can't, I'll refuse you.' But, egad, whenever I 
 asked, he always did refuse me." 
 
 That night, then, when Mr. Tillotson found 
 himself again with the family, he said to himself, 
 almost pettishly, "It is absm'd going on in this 
 way, haunting a family." But he wanted a little 
 resolution in the mere trifles of life. There were 
 no military present, so that Miss Augusta could 
 devote herself without distraction to the entertain- 
 ment of the guest. Miss Helen was tired, and 
 went to lie down. Mr. Ross was not present. 
 "I am glad of it, I am sm-e," said Mrs. Tilney^ 
 "I am tired of waiting on his humours." Miss 
 Augusta exerted herself surprisingly to amuse the 
 stranger. When there were patches of scarlet 
 lighting up the landscape with a gorgeous military 
 sunset, the poor girl naturally became bewildered 
 and divided in her attention. Now that there 
 were only the autumn grays of civil life, the task 
 was easier, so over she went to her piano, and 
 warbled ballads aimed at the very heart of the 
 stranger. 
 
 For a few moments — when she had gone to
 
 134 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 look for another ballad — Mr. Tillotson was left 
 with Miss Millwood. He asked her where Mr. 
 Tilney was. 
 
 " He has gone out," she said. " He is in low 
 spirits. He has met some cruel disappointment 
 to-day, he told me. I cannot guess Avhat it can 
 be. He has many troubles." 
 
 " I can guess," said Mr. Tillotson. '^ I know, 
 in fact. I believe I am accountable. It was about 
 the new bank. But I fear there is a difficulty." 
 
 " Poor papa," she said sadly. " His life has 
 been trouble enough. And he was once very 
 happy. This place is a sad change for him, as 
 you can imagine. It is hard, at his time of life, 
 to be subject to fresh disappointments." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Mr. Tillotson, look- 
 ing at her ; " but I hope there will be no disap- 
 pointment here. In fact, I think we can smooth 
 away the difficulty. I am sure it can be managed." 
 
 Again the deeply gratified look came into her 
 face — the soft charming look of devotion which 
 he had never seen in any other face. Then Miss 
 Augusta came back with her book, and began 
 once more. 
 
 About ten came in Mr. Tilney, dej^ressed and 
 almost moody. 
 
 "Where is that Ross?" he said. "I have 
 been looking for him. He said he would be here."
 
 AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN. 135 
 
 " Oj with liis odious pipe, or some of his mess 
 friends," said Mrs. Tihiey. " A¥hat a hfe the 
 creatm^e leads ! I am sure a person that has staked 
 his all on a chance in this headstrong way might 
 at least conduct himself with humility and gentle- 
 ness. I am sick of his airs. One would think he 
 had got a fortune already." 
 
 '' That is the reason, perhaps," said Mr. Tilney, 
 with a philosophic air. " I suspect he feels it as 
 much as any one, but is so proud, he puts on this 
 ' devil-may-care' manner to hide it. 'Tis not our 
 inky cloaks, you know, Tillotson. There was Bob 
 Childers, who was Master of the Horse ; why, 
 when all his friends knew he was breaking, an^ 
 scraping up a guinea here and a guinea there, 
 God knows how, he was as proud and offensive 
 a creature as the commonest coclmey. There 
 was—" 
 
 Mrs. Tilney had always to restrain these re- 
 miniscences. 
 
 " We know, of course," she said. " Just you 
 ring for the wine, will you?" 
 
 About eleven, when Mr. Tillotson was going 
 home, young Mr. Ross entered very brusquely ; 
 his hair was tossed, his cheeks were flushed. He 
 gave an angry look, and flung himself down on a 
 sofa, making it creak and rattle. Mrs. Tilney 
 moved indignantly in her chair.
 
 13(3 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ^' What is it now?" she said. '' Wc expected 
 you before. What detained you ?" 
 
 " What detained me ? Well ! I wasn't able to 
 come. There !" he answered. '' Suppose I was 
 dining at the mess ? Have you been jolly here ? 
 The usual entertainmentj I suppose? To be con- 
 tinued every night until further notice." And so 
 he continued to sneer. 
 
 Mr. Tilney shook his head. " My good Ross," 
 he said, " you are getting a little rough. It will 
 be time enough, you know, when you come in for 
 your fortune. Put it off until then." 
 
 The other burst into a loud harsh lauo;li. 
 
 " That ivoidcl be a good one. I have got some 
 news for you all about that." 
 
 They all started. Augusta turned romid from 
 the piano. The hands of the yellow-haired girl 
 were clasped fervently. 
 
 " Well ?" they said, eagerly and together. 
 
 " Look at 'em ! What excitement !" he said, 
 ironically. ^' A nine days' wonder. Put all the 
 heads together to devour the great secret. Stare 
 me out of countenance. Do — " 
 
 Mrs. Tilney, without any pretence of a smile 
 whatever, half rose and said calmly, " I see it. 
 He has heard some bad news about the suit. I 
 know he has." 
 
 '^ Well, suppose I have," he answered bitterly,
 
 AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN. 137 
 
 "is it not my own conceni ? Was it not my own 
 venture ? I don't want any one's sympathy or 
 expostulations." 
 
 " William," said Ada, clasping lier hands, 
 "this is dreadful." 
 
 "Dreadful!" said Mrs. Tilney, hardly con- 
 taining herself. " It is all his own doing. He 
 has brought it on himself. I have no pity for 
 him ; none in the world. Such sheer egregious 
 folly is contemptible. You are a beggar now, and 
 you have only yourself to thank for it." 
 
 " Pray, do I want to thank any one else for 
 it?" he answered coldly. " However, it finishes 
 the business once for all, and I am not sorry for it.'"* 
 
 " But what is settled ?" said Mr. Tilney. " God 
 bless us ! is it final ?" 
 
 " Final, forever," he said impatiently. " What 
 is the use of giving details ? Those precious attor- 
 neys have been taking a big-wig's opinion — some 
 Sir Wilham Bushell's. I hope to God he has made 
 'em pay. It is discovered, now, that we never 
 had a chance from the beginning. I suppose, 
 something like myself," he added, getting up, 
 " /never had a chance from the beginning." 
 
 " Plenty, sir," said Mrs. Tilney, " if you had 
 used them properly. I am disgusted." 
 
 " Well," he said with a dismal ruefulness, " I 
 suppose I must weather on somehow. Begin
 
 138 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 again, perhaps. There's nothing wonderful in it, 
 after all. It has happened to plenty more before 
 my time. But now leave it. I don't want to 
 talk of it any more. What's been doing ? What's 
 been ffoino- on?" 
 
 No one answered him, and he looked from 
 one to the other with a poor affectation of being at 
 liis ease, which Mr. Tillotson felt pity for. 
 
 ^' You must cheer up, Mr. Ross," he said 
 good-naturedly, and going up to him. " It may 
 not be so bad as reported. Things may turn out 
 better. Don't be cast down." 
 
 Mr. Ross looked at him from his foot up to his 
 head. 
 
 ^^ Have you seen the letter that came to me to- 
 night? JNTo, I should say not," he said with a 
 sneer. But he checked himself, and added in a 
 softer tone, '' No, the thing is about as bad and as 
 settled as it can be." 
 
 Then Ada spoke in a low voice. '^ It may be 
 as Mr. Tillotson says. We must all hope for the 
 best. Don't be cast down — doji'tj William. It's 
 not so great a blow, after all." And she came up 
 to him with a soft imploring look. 
 
 " Why don't you say. While there's Life 
 there's Hope, or some other amiable platitude ? 
 Good gracious ! What are you all looking at me 
 in this way for ? Is a man that has got a letter
 
 AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN. 139 
 
 .such a wonder? You are all delightful com- 
 forters. I'll not stay here any longer. I'll go 
 back to the mess." And he rose up in a rage, and 
 walked hastily out. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson looked at Ada, then followed him. 
 •** Excuse me for one moment," he said. '^ Look 
 here, Mr. Eoss. I fear you do not understand me, 
 but I mean you Avell — I do indeed. If I can be 
 of any service in this misfortune, I hope you will 
 only show me the way. Recollect, you have some 
 claim on me for an unfortunate mistake I once fell 
 into." 
 
 For a moment there was a softened expression 
 in Ross's face, but only for a moment. This was 
 an unlucky allusion. There was a cold stiff iron 
 bar of pride that ran through his frame from his 
 very head to his heel. 
 
 '' You are very good," he said coldly. '' But 
 I want no assistance. I have remarked, since 
 you came here, you have been kind enough to be 
 making me these sort of offers. What interest, 
 might I ask, have you got in me ? Is it for my 
 own pm-e merits ? I have not been in the world 
 so short a time as to believe that. And as for what 
 you allude to about — " 
 
 " Well then," said the other eagerly, "it is 
 for the sake of another, who I can see is a little 
 interested in you."
 
 140 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " All, I thought SO. Now wc hvLxe it. Then 
 let me tell you, Mr. Tillotsou, great banker as you 
 are, I have seen your game from the beginning. 
 I know what you are staying here and coming 
 here for, with your cl — cl benevolent and sympathis- 
 ing looks. T sui^pose you want to make capital, as 
 you do out of the Fimds, with this grand pity and 
 generosity. An excellent dodge. This suit of 
 mine has fallen in capitally, I sui)pose, with your 
 plans. But look here, Mr. Tillotson the banker," 
 he added, raising his voice. " I may have to go 
 away, I suppose — somewhere — I don't care where. 
 But I shall be watching you wherever I am. You 
 are counting on my being beaten in this. But I 
 give you warning. If I am, some one shall sufPer! 
 I am not a man to stand these tricks, and I give 
 you notice — " 
 
 There was a rustle of a dress close beside them, 
 and there was a sweet voice too of grief. " 0, for 
 shame! for shame !" it said. " I could not believe 
 this of you I I begin to think you are unworthy of 
 all pity, kindness, generosity. — Mr. Tillotson, say 
 no more to him. I am grieved, I am shocked, that 
 your goodness should have exposed you to this ; 
 but I had thought that this — this man — had some 
 feeling in him. But I begin vote to see what 
 he is." 
 
 He looked from one to the other with a look of
 
 AN ILL-CONDITIONED MAN. 141 
 
 impatient fury. ^^ So tliis is wliat you are begin- 
 ning to tliink ?" he said. " I don't care who 
 thinks that I have feeling or not. I want no com- 
 pHments in that way as to thinking well or ill of 
 me. You are both in a charming partnership. 
 Not that I mind, indeed. Good-night to you hoth.''- 
 
 The feeling in his listeners was, that this w^as 
 mere insanity — his eyes were so wild — and that 
 common shape of insanity that comes from a 
 furious struggle of such passions as contempt, 
 disappointment, rage, and pride. 
 
 Ada's eyes were flashing, her cheeks glowing. 
 " I thought," she said bitterly, '' that under all 
 that rudeness and roughness there was a kindness 
 and natural generosity. But he has undeceived 
 me now. I have tried," she continued, in a voice 
 that still trembled a little, ^'to hope the best, and 
 do what little I could by my poor words to save 
 him from himself. But it is useless now. Let 
 him go." 
 
 It was scarcely surprising that Mr. Tillotson's 
 cold cheeks should have found colour at these 
 words, or that he should have felt a thrill of some- 
 thing like pleasure. Then she seemed to recollect 
 herself, fell into a sort of confusion, and fled away 
 uj)stairs. 
 
 When he came back to the drawing-room, he 
 found the family still excited.
 
 142 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 '' It is one satisfaction," said Mrs. Tilney 
 decidedly, *^we can have done witli him now. 
 Tliere is no further excuse for our putting up with 
 his airs. I dechire," she continued, with her 
 favourite motion of rusthng her dress angrily, 
 " all I have endured from him, his insolence, and 
 want of respect, from the fear of hurting his sensi- 
 tiveness. A person of my age consulting a young 
 man's humours is rather a new thing. He shall 
 not come here any more. Indeed, I suppose he 
 will have enough to do to keep himself from want. 
 I am sure," she continued, trying to put up the 
 smile, only now it fitted with difficulty, and seemed 
 made for another mouth, " Mr. Tillotson, who was 
 considerate and kind towards him all through, 
 must have seen what a thankless, ungracious per- 
 son he was. Not one of the girls," continued she, 
 " liked him ; and as for that child, Ada — to whom 
 he had some dislike — I know she will be glad to be 
 free from his tyranny."
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 AN ANGRY WALK HOME. 
 
 With this speecli ringing in liis ears like a bell, 
 Mr. Tillotson went home that night almost elated. 
 He seemed to hear it over- and over again : he 
 repeated it to himself — meditated on it. It seemed 
 to resolve a secret for him — about to resolve it : 
 to dispel a mystery that might have hung around 
 him like a cloud. He was almost elated, and 
 found himself looking on the little town with a 
 sort of reverence and affection which he had not 
 felt before. He wandered a long time about the 
 old cathedral, looking up to it tranquilly, mentally 
 resting within its shadows, scarcely able to make 
 up iiis mind to go home. Suddenly he heard a 
 step behind him, as if some one was running to 
 overtake him, and, looking round, he saw Ensign 
 Eoss. But it was Ensign Eoss with wild eyes of 
 fury and inflamed cheeks. 
 
 " Ah ! I have found you alone," he said, pant- 
 ing. " I was sure you had slipped away home. 
 But you are doing the romantic there, it seems."
 
 144 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 "And what do you want?" said Mr. Tillotson, 
 stopping calmly. " Yon can have nothing to say 
 to me." 
 
 " Haven't I, Mr. Banker ! Then you are 
 wrong. There is no foolish woman here to pro- 
 tect you, before whom you can speak so mildly 
 and gently. A nice protection — a fine oppor- 
 tunity of showing off!" 
 
 "I do not want to quarrel with you," said 
 Mr. Tillotson, still calmly, and moving across the 
 grass towards the path. " We had better not talk 
 any more to-night." 
 
 " Don't be alarmed," said the other. " Don't 
 fear for yourself This is not a lonely place. 
 There is the old watchman passing by. A cry of 
 yours would reach every one of these windows. 
 See ! there is some one actually looking out. 
 There is no violence going to be done." 
 
 For the first time for many months of liis life 
 Mr. Tillotson became impatient. 
 
 " What right have you to speak to me in this 
 way, or in the way you have done since I have 
 come here? I have borne much from you- — too 
 much. I have made what amends I could for 
 what I did under a mistake. I have told you 
 again and again that I am deeply sorry for it. 
 And now that I look back, I can see no reason 
 why I should. I must ask you to say what you
 
 AN ANGRY WALK HOME. 145 
 
 want with me at once, or I sliall not stay another 
 moment." 
 
 They were walking on togetlier. People in 
 their little old-fashioned windows — some of which 
 had diamond panes, and were embroidered round 
 and romid with ivy and moss, and where lights 
 were twinklino^ — thouo-ht that these were two 
 gentlemen walking home pleasantly after dinner. 
 
 " Do I want to keep you or to talk with 
 you? But I just want to tell you something 
 very plainly. I have been watching you from 
 the moment you came here. I am not a man to 
 put up with interterence of any sort from soft 
 gentlemen or from bold insolent fellows ! I can 
 meet both in their owii way. You think because 
 you found out that I was falling in the world — 
 that you, with your banker's money and your 
 brass shovels and cheques — that you could step in 
 and put that girl against me ! That was fine gene- 
 rous conduct!" (His tone was already softened.) 
 
 " That girl ?" said Mr. Tillotson. " Miss Ada 
 Millwood?" 
 
 " Yes. 0, how astonished you are ! Not that 
 I care much for her, or that I believe that she 
 cares for me. She's a weak creature, with no 
 mind or character. But still one of these days, 
 perhaps, I might have changed my mind. I may 
 have my designs about that woman. She was in 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 146 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 some sort mine^ and you saw it. You did! You 
 thought I was down ! And I suppose, because the 
 world chose to turn against me, and banking fel- 
 lows and usurers to strip me of every thing, you 
 thought you would come in with the rest, and that 
 I should be too weak, too ' down,' to resist you. 
 But I am not J sir ; and you shall find that I. am 
 not, sir." 
 
 He planted himself suddenly in front of Mr. 
 Tillotson. The people in the old windows, just 
 going to bed, thought these were two jocular minor 
 canons going home full of spirits. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson met his gaze. '^1 see you are 
 one of those who mistake good-nature and indul- 
 gence for fear. I do not understand your threats ; 
 nor do I mind them. I will only tell you this. 
 You might have made a friend of me. I was will- 
 ing to help you. But I see your real character 
 now. Even one who may have had some interest 
 in you, you have succeeded in turning against 
 you. She has seen your character too." 
 
 "" How dare you !" said the other with a trem- 
 blinof voice. " Now listen to me. For all this 
 air of triumph, you have not tricked me as yet, 
 even with your money and banker's work. No, nor 
 shall not. Now take this warning, I advise you !" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson tossed his head impatiently, and 
 turned away.
 
 AN ANGRY WALK HOME. 147 
 
 " I may liave to leave this place — this cui'sed 
 place ; and I am glad of it. They may be too 
 much for me — for the moment only. But I shall 
 get the better of them all in a month or two. I am 
 not to be beaten by the world or by money, or even 
 by mild schemers. Now take this warning. Go 
 away too, or by heaven, if I hear a whisper of any 
 tricks like what you have been at these few weeks, 
 I'll come back from any quarter of the world and 
 give you a lesson. There ! you'll think this all 
 disappointed love, and that sort of thing. But it's 
 my pride, I can tell you. You a rival indeed ! 
 You shake your cheque-book in a foolish country- 
 girl's eyes, and of course — Think of your age 
 and looks, my friend ! Look at the matter calmly 
 in your bank-parlour." 
 
 " This sort of speech has no effect on me," the 
 other replied calmly. '^ Only a madman would 
 talk as you do. But I shall tell you this openly 
 and fairly, as an answer to yom' ^warnings.' 
 What I have seen of you to-night, and before to- 
 night, would lay an obligation on me to try and 
 save a sweet gentle amiable girl from what would 
 be sheer misery and destruction. My answer 
 to your warning therefore is another warning. 
 And how little I fear your threats you will find out 
 from my behaviour, or from whoever you leave 
 behind you to watch it."
 
 148 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 He walked away calmly, leaving tlie other 
 speechless with fury. The lady in the old moss- 
 covered window, just putting out lior light, thought 
 that the two jocular canons had said good-night in 
 the most friendly way, and had gone home to 
 their canons' roosts. 
 
 Thus did the days wear on at St. Alans, until 
 it came to the day or so l)cfore the assizes began. 
 Mr. Tillotson found a strange calm and quietness 
 in the place, and also a fascination, the charm of 
 which he could not bring himself to break. He 
 even fell into Mr. Tilney's raptures, and began to 
 look on '' the grand old catliedral" itself with a 
 dreamy interest. The picture of that evening, 
 when she was playing the solemn old organ, was 
 in itself a sweet dream. He put off his departure 
 from day to day, and CA^en welcomed Mr. Tilney's 
 eager importunities. That old man of fashion, for 
 all his platitudes, really liked him. He told him 
 all his heavy troubles and anxieties in the most 
 cheerful and enjoyable Avay. It Avas only AAdien 
 he spoke of trifles that he grcAv desponding. 
 
 " HoAv about the bank, Tillotson?" asked Mr. 
 Tilney one morning. 
 
 " I have nearly all the business settled," -.said 
 Mr. Tillotson. " In fact, I must be going in a day 
 or two." 
 
 ^' Ah, of course you must," said Mr. Tilney
 
 AN ANGRY WALK HOME. 149 
 
 desponclingly. ^' This is not tlie place for yon — 
 for any of us. Gentlemen don't do in country 
 towns. The air stifles me, you understand. I 
 declare to you I wish to goodness, Tillotson, I 
 was out of this hole." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson did not press his companion with 
 the inconsistency of this statement with other de- 
 <'larations ; but said it seemed to him to be a calm 
 retired place, where one could be very happy. " I 
 would change with jow with all my heart. One 
 -could grow fond of this quiet common and of the 
 old cathedral opposite." 
 
 '^ Ah," continued Mr. Tilney moodily, " it is 
 very hue — all very well — in its way, you know, for 
 the men who ch-aw the good salaries to wear lawn 
 and keep up the thing. They're all common crea- 
 -tm-es, you see : know no more of the world than 
 their big brass eagle in the choir. But for a man 
 ►like me, who has been in the clubs, sir, and seen 
 a better class of thing altogether, it don't come 
 'natural. The late Dook said to me once or twice, 
 in his short way, ^ Put you in the country, Tilney ! 
 Put you in strait-waistcoat !' " 
 
 As they drew near to the house, he noticed 
 Mr. Tilney looking out nervously, and shading 
 his eyes anxiously. " Do you see, Tillotson?" he 
 asked. "My eyes are not so good. But is that 
 -Still or Canby near the door — eh, now ?"
 
 150 THE SECOND MllS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Tillotson, looking ; " seems- 
 more a sort of tradesman." 
 
 A little twitch passed over Mr. Tilney. " All, 
 very good," lie said. " A small accomit, yon 
 know. I declare, of all tlie liole-and-corner dun- 
 ning places, these wretched towns are the worst ! 
 They are none of 'em gentlemen — no mutual trust 
 — no confidence ; but owe these mean, pitiful, abo 
 — abo — what's the Avord? — aborigines fourpence- 
 lialfpenny, and they send two dozen times for it. 
 On my immortal soul they do, Tillotson ! I'm 
 getting sick of it." 
 
 Tliis was a strange burst from him, and in the 
 mean time he had mechanically turned romid, and 
 said with a cautious air, " There is a view, Tillot- 
 son, of that old place yonder, at the back there, 
 which you can't find the match of from this to the 
 Alhambra. Noble, noble, sir. Just come with 
 me. Softly, softly, sir." And taking his friend's 
 arm, he began to walk back almost on tiptoe, 
 as if for the proper effect it was necessary — the 
 old fane nodding, as it were, and not to be awak- 
 ened. 
 
 In a moment, however, Mr. Tilney's quick ear 
 heard heavy steps, and he turned back sharply. 
 "Another time, Tillotson," he said; "far better 
 another time. Don't ask me now ;" as if the old 
 fane had wakened up and caught them in the act.
 
 AN ANGRY WALK HOME. 151 
 
 ^^ Excuse me, Tillotson/' lie went on ; " only a 
 moment — I quite forgot our friend." 
 
 " Our friend" was unmistakably pursuing them, 
 and running too. Mr. Tilney almost ran to meet 
 him with his arm and stick up, adroitly made him 
 turn back, and, looking round occasionally, showed 
 a joyous and jocund face, as if he were discoursing 
 on some amusing topic. But Mr. Tillotson knew 
 well all that was underneath, even if he had not 
 noticed the surly, blunt, and defiant air of '' our 
 friend," who stopped occasionally and tossed his 
 head, and, in spite of deprecating gesture on Mr. 
 Tilney's part — raised his voice, and sent back to 
 Mr. Tillotson's ear a loud and angry " Once for 
 all, I tell you, Mr. Tilney—" 
 
 In short, he could read off at once that poor 
 Mr. Tilney was a player in • the dismal drama 
 of DEBT, and, as a genteel Sisyphus, was daily 
 rolling the heart-breaking stone of APPEARAits^CES 
 up the steep ways of embarrassment. In a 
 second, and with a pang, for he thought of the 
 golden-haired girl, he saw the whole course of 
 their life, and what a strand of genteel misery 
 was woven in with it. 
 
 He turned away and walked round as if to 
 see by himself that " back view" of the old cathe- 
 dral which rivalled the Alhambra. In the absence 
 of his guide, he could not find this special vista.
 
 152 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 But, after making a complete circnitj lie came 
 suddenly on the house. The tradesman was there 
 still, in the porch, his voice reaching to Mr. Tillot- 
 son at the little gate. But there was another 
 voice, soft, silvery, musical, modulated to expostu- 
 lation and entreaty. A glint of the sunshine 
 passing through the trellis-work of the porch came 
 upon that golden hair and lit it up, and then, with 
 another instinct, Mr. Tillotson read off another 
 secret of the inner life of this family ; how this 
 sweet-tongued girl was put forward as the Inter- 
 cessor and Mediatrix, to shield the persecuted 
 family. He had it all before him, as if he knew 
 them for years. Even noAv the pleading voice 
 of the Mediatrix was having its effect, the indig- 
 nant tradesman was grumbling, and, defending 
 himself, had presently put on his hat, and walked 
 away past Mr. Tillotson, sulkily.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE ASSIZES. 
 
 There was a good deal of stir in tlie assize-town 
 that evening. It snrged over witli tlie waters of 
 ecclesiastical and legal society. A stream of both 
 was gurgling throngh the place. Gowns of two 
 sorts fluttered in tlie air. It was known that the 
 judges had arrived, with the traditional pageantry 
 — brought in, at a slow pace, as if under a strong 
 guard, surrounded with a crowd, and looking 
 gloomily out of the carriage-windows, like state 
 prisoners being conveyed to the Tower. From 
 various second floors over the festive ix^ocers' 
 shops, looked out healthy, large-cheeked, large- 
 whiskered faces, the hands related to which 
 were in pockets ; barristerial faces and barristerial 
 hands. Some were leaning against the window- 
 frame with their barristerial feet up on the sill, 
 others talking to short wiry monastic-looking men, 
 — which represented an eminent counsel receiving 
 ^' instructions" fi'om a local ao-ent.
 
 154 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Mr. Justice Buckstoiie and Mr. Baron Hodder 
 were at their lodgings, about wliicli a little crowd 
 hung — and where, too, they were regarded with 
 a reverence and a submission almost abject, as 
 though they took their commission from a power 
 higher than the Queen. Eound through the town, 
 dispersed in various first floors, were the numer- 
 ous members of the circuit. Serjeant Ryder, Mr. 
 Cobham, Q.C., Mr. Wrigley, Q.C., Mr. Colter, Q.C., 
 Belmore Jones, the well-known popular comisel, 
 who was as necessary to every breach-of-promise 
 case as the writ itself or one of the issues, and wha 
 defended Chartists and others " fearlessly," and 
 with great speeches. But he had so often thrown 
 his head back, and told judges melodramatically 
 that he " stood there to vindicate" innumerable 
 rights, punctilios, and etiquettes, and knew, on 
 so many occasions, what was due " to the gown 
 he had the honour and j)rivilege to wear on his 
 back," that he had been looked coldly on as a 
 forward and troublesome person, and had not 
 been honoured with the mystic letters at the end 
 of his name. Mr. Cobham, Mr. Exshaw, Mr. 
 Serjeant Ryder (known as " the Serjeant"), Mr. 
 "VVrigley, Mr. Colter, all her Majesty's counsel, 
 together with Bagely, Gibbs, and the juniors in 
 good business, were instantly, and almost before 
 they had time to get from the railway or take
 
 THE ASSIZES. 155 
 
 oiF their coats, invaded by gentlemen with papers ; 
 and " the Serjeant," in about five minutes, had 
 his hands in his trousers-pockets, walking up and 
 down the room (his characteristic mode of laying 
 his mind to a case), listening to his junior's voice, 
 which comes struggling through perfect billows of 
 white briefs. The old cathedral town — and some 
 of our canons make a little first-floor profit during 
 this invasion — thus wakened up into a sort of owl- 
 like animation ; and in all its nooks, and closes, 
 and niches, and quiet rusted corners, seemed to 
 nod and flap, and softly hoot with a mild ecclesi- 
 astical bustle. But the grander scene was when 
 half-past six drew on, and this legal aristocracy 
 was seen, still with its hands in its pockets, 
 crowding to the White Hart to dine ; where they 
 were to sit down some forty or fifty strong ; where 
 was the Bar sherry and the Bar port — much rel- 
 ished by the legal babes. But Colter, pale and 
 worn, and with faint eyes, was already wandering 
 away to Whichelo's Trusts, lying on his table at 
 the lodgings, or to Mill's case, which was to 
 be " on" first on Monday morning. 
 
 But as Sunday intervenes — supposed reason- 
 ably to be a day of rest for all but poor Colter and 
 Bolt — it is worth while going up to the cathedral 
 to see the legal service for once. Through all the 
 monotony of Sunday after Sunday, and the cho-
 
 156 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 risters and minor canons every day at three, with- 
 out change and the most wearisome sameness, and 
 Fugle witli liis "heart panting," this is a very 
 agreeable break. Mrs. Toplady and her daughters 
 get on their best and go. Dissenting ladies even, 
 drawn by natural curiosity, go off* also " to see 
 the judges." Across the green lawn in the Close 
 the lines of company seemed to trail and converge 
 like gay ribbons. The sun was out. The choir 
 was full. The vast clothes-presses seemed to 
 creak under the load, for every rank and every 
 tier were filled, and the rows of gay bonnets and 
 dresses were parted by the long bands of dark 
 black oak ; and the light coming through the pale 
 yellow and paler greens of the great windows, 
 dappled over the two heads of the two judges 
 who sat together in stalls of honour, imparting 
 a regular saint's "nimbus" to the chalky well- 
 worn face of Mr. Baron Hodder, and comically 
 laying what seemed a little dab of crimson gore 
 right on the bald crown of the rubicund and oily 
 Mr. Justice Buckstone. They had been brought 
 in by the dean himself, and stalled helplessly, and 
 a great prayer-book thrust into their hands. All 
 dotted about were praying barristers, with their 
 large serious faces, and whiskers spread like black 
 sails, for whom, indeed, those benches and stalls 
 seemed but another shape of court; and if any
 
 THE ASSIZES. 157 
 
 one had pulled tlie dreani}' Colter from behind, 
 whose thoughts were still at his lodgings noting 
 Whichelo's Trusts, and whispered that it was 
 time, he would have almost risen and " moved" 
 their lordships on the spot. 
 
 Mr. Baron Hodder, the Criminal Judge, with 
 his eyes on his great book, was also wandering 
 off to a terrible shooting case which was to be 
 on before him, which had been committed on the 
 verge of two counties ; for he knew that Jones, 
 the '' Dock" counsel, would have " a point" about 
 the indictment and " the five hundred yards" re- 
 quired by the statute, and he was thinking what 
 ^' he woidd do with it;" all which speculations 
 were disturbed by the music — the sublime anthem, 
 '^ For the Lord is a Just Judge," set specially 
 by Bliss, Mus. Doc. Oxon, — in complaint to the 
 Assizes, — and at which he was now straining and 
 creaking, and snatching at pegs and handles left 
 and right, and tram]>ling the very souls out of 
 pedals underneath — and by the sweet chirruping 
 bleat of Fugle, whose eyes, like all other eyes 
 in the place, turning to the right to make proper 
 effect on the stall of honour, rose and fell ; and 
 he sometimes seemed to smile in his sinoino; and 
 droop his head sadly, as who sliould say, " Now 
 all is finish — ed : let mc bo transfigured and
 
 158 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 assum — ccl, fortliwitli, into my place in tlie hea- 
 venly mansions !" 
 
 But tlie judges did not care for music, at first 
 merely looking for a moment curiously at Doctor 
 Fugle as tliey would at a new witness just entering 
 the box ; and so Fugle bleated his bleat mourn- 
 fully, and the other seraphic canons came in tu- 
 multuously, and Bliss, tumbling and surging in 
 over all, sent down monster billows of sounds that 
 swelled through the aisles, and went floating up 
 the towers and groined roofs, and actually made 
 the black-oak benches under the judges quiver 
 and tremble with the vibration. And then, though 
 Bliss's music was poor, and the singers, separately, 
 theatrical and affected, the grand old organ — in 
 which were some of the Dutch Silbermann's pipes, 
 rich, ripe, mellow, and celestial, and the fresh 
 voices of children, and the union of all, and the 
 associations of the place — triumphed over every 
 thing ; and, as it rolled past the stalls of honour, 
 made the Coke upon Lyttleton which each judge 
 had bound up in him as a heart, thrill for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 It was altoo-ether a delis^ht to the inhabitants. 
 Mrs. Tilney and her family went up in procession 
 to the cathedral, and perhaps the ladies of her 
 family took stock of the barristerial company and 
 the flowing whiskers ; for Mr. Tilney, up at the
 
 THE ASSIZES. 159 
 
 White Hart, only tlie niglit before liad had brown- 
 sherry with one of the Benjamins of the society, 
 and obtained from him an exact list and descrip- 
 tion of the gentlemen of the Bar then in town. 
 This youth, who was voluble and eager, gave him 
 little short sketches of each, after the manner of 
 the obituary notices ; and these meagre outlines 
 Mr. Tilney could readily fill out from his own 
 sources of information. He came back mysteri- 
 ously to his family. 
 
 " Do you know who is here, my dears ? Yomig 
 Tilbury, son of old Sir Thomas. Dear me ! has 
 sent him to the Bar. Second son, of coui-se ; but, 
 if he pleases. Sir Thomas, you know, can — I like 
 a young fellow's carving out a way for himself. 
 And there's young Harris, in very fair business, 
 too. I am sure it's the same. Nice, isn't it ?" 
 
 Ross was there with his friend, restless, fuming, 
 biting his nails, and with his eyes fixed, now on 
 the judges, now on Mr. Paget, his own working 
 counsel. 
 
 Mr. Cobham, the leader, was at his lodgings, 
 as indeed was Serjeant Ryder, and other leading 
 counsel, who were supposed to be too busy to afford 
 time for these showy pious exercises — in truth, the 
 Serjeant was away on the hills taking a bracing 
 walk and a quiet cigar. 
 
 At the door Mr. Ross commented on this.
 
 IBO THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " Sucli hypocrites !" lie said. " Setting up to bo 
 holy fellows, and pretending piety ! Such cant ! 
 What do they care for those fellows' praying, or 
 for that old whinino; dean's loner-winded talk? 
 That's the way they swindle us of our money, and 
 go idling about the place instead of minding their 
 business. It's an infernal shame ! And then 
 they tell me the other fellows are up at their 
 lodgings hammering away at their business." 
 
 His friend Grainger, on wdiose arm he was 
 leaning, and whose staring eyes searched every 
 face that passed them by, struck in with his sub- 
 dued growl : 
 
 " Well ' fee'd,' indeed, and then won't w^ork ! 
 A re,o"ular set of impostors ! The rule should be, 
 No cure, no pay." 
 
 The Tilney family were standing close by the 
 ancient porch — where, indeed, all the congregation 
 were loitering — to see the distinguished strangers 
 come out. Mr. Tilney was with them. As the 
 judges •passed in custody of an eager sheriff, hur- 
 rying them to the carriage, Eoss, still biting his 
 fin<rers, devoured Mr. Justice Buckstone with his 
 eyes. " There he is," he said to his companion ; 
 " and that bladder-chop creature is to deal with 
 our case. I wish it was the other." 
 
 " He looks a lounging fellow," said his friend. 
 ,5 Takes his work easy, you may depend."
 
 THE ASSIZES. 161 
 
 Suddenly Boss saw Mr. Tillotson talking to 
 Ada Millwood; and, dropping his friend's arm, 
 strode up to tliem with a sour face. That ugly 
 cicatrice was still there, though he had been 
 plaistering it industriously, day and night. It 
 would not be gone for months. 
 
 "0," she said, as he came up, ^^ listen to this, 
 William. Mr. Tillotson has been asking some of 
 the lawyers at the hotel about the case — " 
 
 Boss scowled at the other's feet. " I had 
 rather not," he said, '' have my case talked about 
 or asked about among the barristers. I have 
 paid counsel." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson smiled, and unconsciously his 
 gentle eye fell upon the cicatrice. The other felt 
 it on him. 
 
 "AYell?" he asked; "I daresay it has been 
 injured enough by all this gossiping about the 
 place. I wish people would leave me and my 
 affairs alone. Of course they mean well, and all 
 that kind of cant." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson smiled. " I thought you would 
 like to know the exact moment of it's coming on. 
 This was the judges' registrar, and he says about 
 one to-morrow, as there is only a sjiort case be- 
 fore it." 
 
 The girl's face fell. '^ So near at hand," she 
 said. "0, it is dreadful ! How shall we bear 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 the suspense of tlie day ? Do, all, let me ask 
 you once more, and Mr. Tillotson joins us all, do 
 settle it as they want you." 
 
 " He joins you, does he ?" said he. ^^ And so 
 I must settle, must I ? It's enough to have it 
 in one's mind, without being persecuted in this 
 infernal way. He joins you, does he ? Well ?" 
 
 Mr. Cater, his solicitor, was beside him, mo- 
 tioning to a tired-looking, shabby, tall, and stooj)ed 
 gentleman who was near him. " Mr. Cobham, 
 sir, wishes a word with you. To know you, in 
 fact." 
 
 "With suspicion in his eyes, Koss went with 
 them, and the three walked away slowly over 
 the graves. He came back presently in a fury, 
 and overtook the Tilney party, now nearly at 
 their own door. 
 
 " Every one thinks they have a right to dic- 
 tate to me — ^to give me lessons ; but I had better 
 stop it at once, and give notice, that I will not 
 be pestered in this way. That seedy mole of a 
 pettifogger, who has got my guineas in his pocket, 
 must needs come up to me with his advice about 
 ^ settlincr.' Settlincr I Such a croak ! croak ! 
 Settle from an old mildewed anatomy! It's in- 
 fernally impudent of him, a trading fellow like 
 that; and indeed I told him as much." 
 
 " William," said Ada eagerly. " Every
 
 THE ASSIZES. 163 
 
 body says it. They must be right. Will you 
 not listen? You are only preparing wretched- 
 ness for yourself. — Mr. Grainger, you have in- 
 fluence over him. Stop this insanity." 
 
 The Indian-looking man rolled his wild eyes, 
 and put the end of his wilder moustache into his 
 mouth to chew. " I believe there is a great 
 deal in that, Miss Millwood," he said ; "but 
 when Ross takes a thing into his head, you might 
 as well preach to that headstone there." 
 
 " Do you believe him?" said Boss scornfully. 
 "A fellow that has all but lost the shirt off his 
 back at those German hells, and would pawn his 
 soul for money ; isn't he likely to be for double 
 or quits — eh ? Don't talk to me ; and I ask it 
 as a favour, Mr. — Mr. Tillotson, that you won't be 
 worrying the lawyers about my affairs. I want 
 no one — no one — to be meddling in my concerns. 
 I'm not in the humour for it, I give warning 
 to all. If they will, damn it, I'll have to give 'em 
 a lesson !" 
 
 And, with fury in his eyes, he turned away. 
 It was a very restles's Sunday for him ; and all 
 the rest of the day he was prowling about nerv- 
 ously, haunting his solicitor, and taking wild 
 quick walks over the hills. Over the Tilney man- 
 sion, all through that day, was cast a sense ^of 
 gloom and mieasiness.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ROSS V. DAYIS. 
 
 The cathedral town was extraordinarily full ; tlie 
 country gentlemen, who came in crowds, used the 
 well-known illustration about "swinging a cat" 
 with surprising frequency and satisfaction. The 
 White Hart was at its wits' end to devise room for 
 its guests, and, with an expansion to which it was 
 well accustomed, had converted closets, store- 
 rooms, CA'Cn cupboards, into sleeping-rooms ; and 
 with a rigid impartiality charged the same tariff 
 for the state bedroom and for the meanest little 
 hutch in the garret. All were labourers in the 
 vineyard, and the last grand juror received the 
 same wage as the first. For that body were " sit- 
 ting," making presentments in its " rooms," 
 arguing over roads and " cess," and such things, 
 and were calling in "collectors," and were be- 
 having with a fierce despotism, which, however, 
 was harmless, and only confined to the manner. 
 For they all felt that they were the "Jurors of
 
 BOSS V. DAVIS. 165 
 
 Our Sovereign Lady the Queen," who had awful 
 duties cast upon them. By and by they would 
 be dealing with the cases of malefactors ; and 
 it would be surprising with what jealous caution 
 and importance the witnesses Avould be interro- 
 gated. 
 
 The judges were already "in." The galleries 
 were filled, for it was well known that the Tilneys, 
 " those people who were always aping at gran- 
 deur," had some case coming on. At least it had 
 reference to that "half-savage, ill-conditioned" 
 Mr. Ross, and it was much the same thing. Li 
 the Crown Court, the faint-eyed, well-worn judge 
 was already at work, with the faint eyes laid close 
 to his note-book, while a rude agricultural Sikh, 
 in a fustian -jacket and corduroy, stood up in the 
 centre, like a living Jack-in-the-Box. He was 
 the prisoner in the great shooting-case, and the 
 pen of Belmore Jones, who himself already scented 
 the "point" from afar off, was racing over his 
 foolscap, taking notes. In the other Court, Mr. 
 Justice Buckstone had disposed of the " little case" 
 in a conversational way, just as he would dispose 
 of his chop; and leaning back with eyes half 
 closed, and tapping on his knuckles, was ask- 
 ing Mr. Cobliam if he was ready to go on with 
 that ejectment case. Cobham said he was perfectly 
 ready, with a confidence as though he always had
 
 166 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 been, would, and ever should be ready in every 
 case, no matter when called on. But tlie question, 
 my lud, was the other side. He didn't know how 
 his learned friend, Serjeant Kyder, felt; whether 
 he was not taken by surprise through the rapid but 
 satisfactory way in which his lordship had disposed 
 of the last case. 
 
 " Then we had better have him in," said his 
 lordship. Still Mr. Cobham whispers behind the 
 back of his hand, and over his brother's shoulder, 
 to his solicitor. The solicitor shakes his head, but 
 turns to his neighbour, who is Ross, feverish and 
 impatient. In a moment the heads of the two 
 are together. 
 
 " You should settle," said Mr. Cobham, be- 
 hind his hand. " 'Now take my advice — we've 
 no chance." 
 
 Ross drew back, looking blank. " IN^o," he 
 said bluntly; "go on with yom' speech. You 
 7nusV 
 
 " Now, Brother Ryder," said his lordship, 
 with the points of his fingers neatly put together, 
 looking from side to side, and cracking his fingers 
 faintly on his knuckles. 
 
 Presently there was a turning of faces, a 
 rustling and a struggling, and the Serjeant is la- 
 bouring in, as it were, cutting a path through 
 his fellow-creatures. He was ready, always was ;
 
 EOSS V. DAVIS. 167 
 
 in fact, was a little sui-prisecl it had not been taken 
 long before. Every body thus being ready, a jury 
 is sworn — a dogged, agricultural, embarrassed- 
 looking jury — and Mr. Paget opened the plead- 
 ings ; this was an ejectment, brought to recover 
 possession of the lands known as Mount Davis. 
 The defendant, Oliver Davis, pleaded so and so, 
 " and the issues that you will have now to try," 
 continued Mr. Paget, raising his voice, '' are so 
 and so," according to the usual form. He then 
 dropped into his place. Mr. Cobham, rising, put 
 his handkerchief down on his brief before him, 
 and placing one foot up on the seat, patting his 
 knee now and then, a favourite attitude, proceeded 
 to address the gentlemen of the jury. 
 
 Mr. Cobham said he would briefly show them 
 how the case stood. It was a simj^le case — " one 
 of the simplest, perhaps, that had ever come into 
 a court of justice." It of course lay in a nut- 
 shell, and if they would let him "lead their 
 minds," or "go with him for a short time," they 
 would have no difficulty at arriving at a true ap- 
 prehension of the point in dispute. It was, as they 
 had heard, a simple action of ejectment as between 
 one man and another. Both parties were in the 
 same station ; both parties came asking equal jus- 
 tice at their hands — a justice, he was confident, 
 they would obtain. For he (Mr. Cobham) had
 
 168 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 had the honour of going that circuit for many- 
 years, and of addressing faces he had the privilege 
 of seeing there often before him. His lordship, 
 too, had come very often, and knew what the 
 juries of that county were. Men more capable 
 of dealing with the intricate relations that arise 
 between man and man, there were nowhere, or 
 men more likely to take a good common-sense 
 view of any transaction. His lordship on the 
 bench knew them ; his learned friend there 
 knew them ; they all knew them. They were 
 now to deal with this important case, the details 
 of which he should now proceed to lay before 
 them. 
 
 '^ It would appear," as Mr. Cobham said, put- 
 ting his briefs farther away from him, and settling 
 his bag and things as if he were laying breakfast, 
 '^ that about the ye — ar" (Mr. Cobham lengthened 
 out this word, to give himself time, with silver 
 glasses up, to look for the date) '^ seventeen 
 7iz/?zdred and ninety-seven, that a Mr. Oliver Davis 
 was possessed of certain estates known as the 
 ^ Moore Hall ' property, valued at the time at 
 about eighteen hundred to two thousand a year. 
 He jvas an old gentleman, unmarried, and, I may 
 say, of somewhat singular and solitary tastes. He 
 lived by himself, and saw no company. About 
 the year eighteen hundred and one, or so, he fell
 
 EOSS V. DAVIS. 169 
 
 in with an old friend, who had newly come from 
 India, where he had been engaged fighting for 
 his king and country ; a man of worth and courage ; 
 a man of honour, a gentleman, a soldier, whose 
 name was — was Gen — er — al" (added Mr. Cob- 
 ham, stooping down to refresh his memory, through 
 the silver glasses, as to the name of the man of 
 worth and honour), '^yes. General Halton Rofes — 
 General Halton Ross. Halton Ross," said Mr. 
 Cobham, twisting his glasses by the string, and 
 now quite interested with the officer, whose name 
 he could not recollect, "was the father of my 
 client here !" 
 
 Ross, with a painfully eager face, had been 
 bent forward, with his fierce eyes devouring the 
 counsel. Every one now looked at him. The 
 heavy jury stooped over, as if to peer down into 
 a pond. Ladies in the gallery foun.d him out at 
 once, and looked down also. He felt all their 
 eyes on him, and, with unconcealed mutterings, 
 flmig himself back into his seat. Mr. Cobham, 
 with his knee up, had coughed and spat into his 
 India handkerchief, and was abstractedly looking 
 into its folds to pick up some more facts there. 
 
 "It would seem that the old intimacy of the 
 two was renewed. They became firmer friends 
 than ever ; and about the year eighteen hundred 
 and" — (a fresh search here) — "yes, and ten, a
 
 170 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 draught-deed was prepared, virtually conveying 
 the whole of the Moore Hall estates to his friend 
 — (give me the draught-deed," he called to his 
 junior, who had it dragged out and opened in a 
 second) — " under the following remarkable limita- 
 tions. First to trustees, in trust for himself, 
 for life ; then — " 
 
 Serjeant Ryder Avas now standing up. 
 
 " What is that ? "What are you reading 
 from ?" 
 
 " The draught-deed of eighteen hundred and 
 ten," said his friend, in mild astonishment at the 
 interruption. 
 
 " Which was never executed. I object to 
 that paper. No one knows better than my 
 learned friend that it is not evidence. Just put 
 it up." 
 
 '' I was reading this," said Mr. Cobham, 
 mildly, '^ as evidence of the disposition of Oliver 
 Davis. My learned friend will see I am quite 
 regular." 
 
 " I object," said Serjeant Ryder, apparently 
 angry at this trifling, ^^to any paper of this sort. 
 Let's do things regularly." 
 
 " My Brother Ryder," began the judge with 
 enjoyment. 
 
 '^ We shall have to come on this later," said 
 Mr. Cobham.
 
 ROSS V. DAVIS. 171 
 
 " And we were going to enter it now, 7iu7ic 
 pro tunc, as part of tlie case," supplemented his 
 junior, much injured. 
 
 " My Brother Eyder," said the judge with 
 humour, " it seems, objects to take your draught." 
 
 Again the waves of obsequious merriment 
 floated over the bar benches. The country gentle- 
 men in the grand-jmy boxes, indirectly affiliated 
 to the legal profession, relished it with broader 
 and more unrestrained mirth. 
 
 When the court had recovered from the effect 
 of this humour, his lordship said, with graduated 
 remonstrance, 
 
 " I think, Brother Kyder, we must let in this 
 paper. Come, I don't see how we well can't. It 
 seems good evidence of intention. Eh ?" 
 
 '^ As good as ever was given," said Mr. Cob- 
 ham. ' ' A draught-deed. ' ' 
 
 " Surely," said Serjeant Ryder, stooping over 
 earnestly, "your lordship can't be in earnest. A 
 draught-deed, unsigned, in God knows whose 
 handwriting ! We may as well begin again at 
 our elementary books, i^ that be considered evi- 
 dence." 
 
 " I think I must let it in. Brother Ryder," said 
 his lordship gravely. 
 
 " Very well, my lord," said the Serjeant, look- 
 ing to the right and left resignedly. " Just as
 
 172 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 you please ; with all my heart and soul. Go on 
 with the case." 
 
 '^ His lordship," went on Mr. Cobham, " hav- 
 ing ruled this piece of documentary eyidence to 
 be admissible, I was going to say (give me the 
 letter of the 25th June) — to say that old Oliver 
 Davis, in a letter dated the 25th June, and wdiich 
 w^e now produce, and which my learned friend 
 may see if he likes, alludes to this intended dispo- 
 sition of his property." And Mr. Cobham read 
 his letter triumphantly. '^ But this draught-deed 
 does not affect the matter. Not in the least. It 
 w^ouldseem, however, that a sort of coldness sprang 
 up between the friends, and later a cousin, aWilliam 
 Davis, then an elderly man, was taken into favour, 
 and on the twenty-first — of — August," said Mr. 
 Cobham, with glasses on, and his face well down 
 to his brief, "eighteen hundred and twelve, he 
 executed a deed of settlement, by which he con- 
 veyed all the Moore-Hall estates — to — William 
 Davis — and his heirs, in the usual way. That 
 deed was duly executed, and was in court. His 
 learned friends w^ere welcome to — " 
 
 " We admit all the proofs," said the serjeant 
 contemptuously. " Go on with the case." 
 
 " By that deed he made himself tenant for 
 life, with remainder to William Davis, his first 
 and other sons in tail male, remainder to his heirs
 
 ROSS V. DAVIS. 173 
 
 general — in the usual way, in fact. In default of 
 these, the estate was settled on his old friend, 
 General Halton Eoss, and his heirs male. To 
 compress the whole into a sentence," said Mr, 
 Cobham, " our title is this." 
 
 The story, in short, told them by Mr. Cobham, 
 and told dramatically — but not in a sentence — 
 amounted to this : In course of time Oliver Davis 
 died, and William Davis, the cousin, succeeded. 
 William Davis, the cousin, had one child, called 
 William Oliver Davis (and indeed, by and by, the 
 jury got bewildered when the learned counsel be- 
 gan sonorously to ring their names like loud bells, 
 now pulling " Will-i — am Davis," and then, with 
 a far fuller reverberation, " Will-i — am 0-liver 
 Davis"), then married, and his daugliter, Alice 
 Olivia Davis, was the defendant in the present suit. 
 
 ^' 1 have thus, gentlemen of the jury," said 
 Mr. Cobham, '' taken you so far tln^ough all the 
 steps of the title." So indeed he had. And that 
 title being conceded satisfactory, the laymen in 
 court wondered how it was to be disturbed. But 
 now began the dramatic part. " It would seem 
 that William Oliver Davis, while a young man, 
 and previous to his marriage, travelling in Scot- 
 land, fell in with a manufacturer's daughter of 
 strong will and great cleverness. This lady, whose 
 father was on the verge of banla'uptcy, had dis-
 
 174 THE SECOND MKS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 covered the prospects that Avere in store for young 
 William Oliver Davis, and had determined to 
 secure him. He was a wild youth, had fallen 
 passionately in love with the young lady ; and, 
 according to Mr. Cobham, his client had married 
 the manufacturer's daughter secretly, according 
 to some Scotch form, which he — William Oliver 
 Davis — believed would not hold good in England. 
 " As if," said Mr. Cobham, passionately, " that tie, 
 that holy tie, which is good before Heaven in one 
 spot shall not be good before the same tribunal in 
 another — as if the union that is cemented in the 
 wildest island of the Hebrides is not to be equally 
 enduring on the ruggedest shore of the Irish coast 
 — at the Land's End as well as at John o' Groat's 
 corner ! Thank God," said Mr. Cobham, warm- 
 ing unexpectedly, " a Scotch marriage still holds 
 good in this fair land of England, and is still a 
 protection for helpless women against the designs 
 of wicked men !" 
 
 Later on, the youth returned to his family, 
 and soon heard that the Scotch lady had tui-ned 
 out very strangely — had run away from her pa- 
 rents with a captain, and was supposed to have 
 died miserably, Tlu-ee or four years later, the 
 youth married an heiress, and died, leaving a 
 daughter. The point of the whole thing was to 
 be this. As William Oliver was married in Scot-
 
 ROSS V. DAYIS. 175 
 
 land, or was maintained to have been married, 
 the second marriage was a nulhty, and the off- 
 spring of that marriage — who was the present 
 defendant — was illegitimate, and could not " come 
 in" under the terms of the settlement. It there- 
 fore passed to the Ross's, who were the other 
 parties in remainder named in the deed. 
 
 Then he explained the way in which the pre- 
 sent action came to be brought. The plaintifi's 
 father was an old and infirm man of eighty when 
 his rights accrued, was very nervous and excitable, 
 and declared that he would have " no law" during 
 the short span of his life that remained. He had 
 died a coupleof years before, and Ross, the present 
 plaintiff, then serving in India, had come home at 
 once, and had lost no time in making his claim. 
 
 A very strange case, and stated by Mr. Cobham 
 with all his usual clearness ; but how would they 
 make it out? This was said by the great legal 
 unemployed among each other, when the judge 
 retired to Imich. That was all very well; but 
 how would they make it out? Tlie court, as it 
 were, stood at ease. Every one was chatting, and 
 put on their hats; not that they cared to have 
 them on, but for the pleasure of having them on 
 now, at least, without check or restraint. 
 
 Ross hung about the door, every now and 
 again putting in his wistful face with the fiery
 
 176 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 eyes. "They call this doing justice," he said. 
 " I begin to see how it will end ! That old swine 
 on the bench cares no more for the case than he 
 does for an old shoe. It's disgusting. Look at 
 the way they waste the public time — jabbering 
 away over his sherry and chop." 
 
 A light figure tripped up, a soft fair face was 
 close to him. 
 
 " Well," she asked timorously, " how is it 
 going? Well?" 
 
 He burst out with a laugh. " Why, how 
 should it go? How long have they been at it? 
 Do you expect a thing of this sort to be settled 
 off-hand in an horn- ? Why, they haven't began ; 
 and see ! Don't be plaguing me with expresses 
 and messages in this way. I have enough on 
 my mind without that. Go home, do now, like 
 a good girl." 
 
 Tliis was gentler than his usual mode of 
 speech ; and she went away quite grateful. He 
 turned in hastily, fearful of having lost any 
 tiling. 
 
 They were at work. A very broken-down old 
 man, with white hair and a walnut-face, but yet 
 with a cunning ex^^ression in his eyes, was being 
 examined by Mr. Cobham. He was striving to 
 hear, striving to speak ; and Mr. Cobham was 
 striving [to catch what words came from him.
 
 ROSS V. DAVIS. 177 
 
 Tlie judge was conscious of a Avinclow at the far 
 end of the court, and motioning with hand ; but 
 whenever Mr. Cobham stopped, said, " Go on, 
 Mr. Cobham." Ross stamped savagely under the 
 table. And there, too, was his leading counsel, 
 looking from side to side, carelessly sucking an 
 orange. The administration of justice was groAv- 
 ing disgraceful in this country. 
 
 '' The trouble we had to get at this old fellow," 
 said the solicitor's clerk to two or three barristers 
 near the door — ^' to dig him up, almost. Mr. 
 Grainger, Ross's friend, was the man who did the 
 job. He hunted him up for two months, night 
 and day ; never let him go a moment ; hung on 
 him like a bulldog. It was wonderful. Listen 
 now. He is doing wonderfully well." 
 
 So he was. Under the skilful leadinfr of Mr. 
 
 o 
 
 Cobham, who had at last got the range, and could 
 hear himself, and make the old man hear, he 
 began to tell his story : how, about the year so- 
 and-so, in the month — he couldn't give the month 
 — he was in Aberdeen, sitting downstairs one 
 evening; how he recollected Miss Macgregor 
 sending him out/o?' to bring young William Davis 
 to her. He was not very willing, but he did 
 come at last. After a time he heard stampings 
 and " whirl ttings," and sounds of sobbing and 
 wailing ; and he owned, to the great merriment of 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 the coiu't, tliat lie liacl crept upstairs and listened, 
 and that the whole dispute was about a marriage. 
 Presently he heard the young man say, very sulk- 
 ily," Well, call up Jamie and the maid, and I'll do 
 what you like." " And then," said the old man, 
 amid loud laughter, "I thowt it were high time 
 for me to be going." (His lordship was really 
 diverted, and, to add to the hilarity, said, " You 
 were afraid of being surprised, no doubt?") The 
 old man and the maid were then called up into 
 the room, and William Oliver, standing up with 
 the young leddy's hand in his, told them that he 
 declared that he and the young leddy were man 
 and wife, and bid them recollect what he, Mr. 
 Davis, had said. They then retired, wondering at 
 this ceremony, which, as Mr. Cobham explained 
 to the jury, was one of the formulas to constitute 
 a Scotch marriage, and was known as a contract of 
 verba cle j^rwsenti. There was great sensation at 
 this the dramatic portion of the trial, and yet 
 greater when Serjeant Ryder stood up, and all 
 but dressed himself, carefully arranging his wig 
 and gown with dandyism, to cross-examine the 
 old man. 
 
 The old man kept his wiry fingers tightly 
 clasped as he was put to the customary question, 
 "To whom did you tell this story first? When 
 did you tell it? Why didn't you tell it before?"
 
 ROSS V. DAVIS. 179 
 
 with more to the same effect ; the old man an- 
 swering warily, with his head on one side and 
 his wiry fingers tightly clasped together. Mr. 
 Cobham presently "interposed," and said his 
 learned friend would learn all that by and by 
 fi'om the plaintiff here and his friend, who by 
 almost miraculous exertions had found out this 
 important witness. 
 
 But Serjeant Ryder was not to be disposed of 
 in that fashion. He affected to submit, and with 
 a quiet eagerness for information began to ask 
 particulars about the old man's life. Where was 
 he in such a year ? Ah ! very good. Well, from 
 that year to such a year what was he doing ? 
 Come now, try and recollect. 0, he must. You 
 know you must have a capital memory to recollect 
 all this about the parlour and the calling up. 
 Well, he was in Aberdeen. What! during all 
 these long years never out of Aberdeen ? Never 
 — that is to say, never. Why, had he ever been 
 out of the country? N — no — that is, yes, for a 
 time. What, travelling ? It was only for a time. 
 What, travelling ? repeated the learned gentleman 
 in a louder voice. Well, he supposed a man could 
 travel if he liked. Was it travelling for pleasure 
 or profit — come now ? Then came one of those 
 secret inspirations which to a lawyer are as con- 
 vincing as a revelation. " Come, sir," said the
 
 180 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Serjeant in a solemn roar, " Were you ever sent 
 
 AWAY OUT OF THE COUNTRY ?" 
 
 This was spoken of afterwards among the Bar 
 as ^^a kicky shot in Eyder." Witness was in 
 great confusion. " Come, sir," roared the serjeant 
 as from a quarter-deck ; " take your hand down 
 and answer. Come, sir." 
 
 Cobham really must interpose here. Up to a 
 certain point he had given his learned friend any 
 latitude. But Ryder was now savage : he was 
 not to be interrupted; the witness was in his 
 hands; he must beg that Mr. Cobham would sit 
 down, and sit down at once. After a terrific com- 
 bat over the old man, who was looking vaxjantly 
 from one to the other, the answer was at last 
 wrung out of him that he had been seven years 
 away, in Botany Bay. Then Ryder sat down, 
 panting and fanning himself. 
 
 Other witnesses then came : among them Mr. 
 Tilney, who took the oath with extraordinary 
 reverence and solemnity, and added the words, 
 '' So help me God, Amen," of his own motion, 
 and with great fervour. Relating what he felt 
 afterwards at dinner, he said, " I was in the 
 presence of my Maker, you know ; and I was to 
 speak the whole truth, every particle of the truth, 
 and nothing in the wide world but the truth — 
 w^ords which seem to me awfully impressive."
 
 EOSS V. DAVIS. 181 
 
 But he did not think that perhaps the simple text 
 of the original would have been more so. 
 
 o 
 
 What had Mr. Tilney to tell as to this trial? 
 Simply this : With the leave of his lordship there 
 he would relate all he knew in his own way, which 
 might, after all, simplify the matter 
 
 His lordship thinks bluntly, and without rais- 
 ing his spectacles from the paper, that he had 
 better answer any questions put in the regular 
 way. 
 
 " Yes," says Mr. Paget; " if you will follow 
 me, Mr. Tilney, we shall be shorter." Now, had 
 he ever heard any allusion in the family to this 
 Scotch marriage — any discussion, you know — and 
 when ? 
 
 Mr. Tilney put a long first finger to his fore- 
 head, in the shape of a large human knocker, 
 as who would say, " I will rap herey and find 
 out for you." And then, after thinking pain- 
 fully, said that about twenty years ago he re- 
 membered distinctly being at the table of General 
 Ogle, who was then Colonel Ogle, and equerry 
 to His Royal Highness the Dook of York. He 
 had served in the disastrous Walcheren — 
 
 ^'In short," said Mr. Paget, ^^he dined with 
 you. Any one else ?" 
 
 ''1 could tell you," said Mr. Tilney, "the 
 names of every one there, just as if it were
 
 182 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 yesterday; only give me a little time. There 
 was — " 
 
 " Never mind tliat^'' said Mr. Paget. " Was 
 there a John Davis there, cousin of the settlor?" 
 
 " There was," said Mr. Tilney, with the 
 knocker up, and seeing the cousin up in the 
 cornice. " There was ; and there was also — " 
 
 "Very good. Now let me ask you, did any 
 one say any thing about this matter of the mar- 
 riage?" 
 
 "I distinctly recollect," said Mr. Tilney so- 
 lemnly; — "and I know that I am on my oath, 
 and in presence of the Searcher of hearts — Gene- 
 ral Ogle, then Colonel Ogle — I recollect his say- 
 ing distinctly — " 
 
 Again the serjeant was standing up. " I must 
 interpose here, my lord. This can't be evidence." 
 
 " General Ogle said that William Oliver Davis 
 had told him — " 
 
 " Will yon stop, sir ?" said the serjeant. 
 " D'ye hear me, sir ? Is that Ogle alive or 
 dead?" 
 
 " I can't take on me to say," said Mr. Tilney 
 wisely. "No, no; not that." 
 
 " Exactly," said the serjeant. "Then your 
 lordship sees at once this can't be evidence." 
 
 "I don't see that," said his lordship with a 
 pleasant twinkle.
 
 BOSS V. DAYTS. 183 
 
 Mr. Cobham started up. "Ogle," lie said, 
 " was a relation of tlie Davis family." 
 
 " Let them prove the death of Ogle, or call 
 Ogle," said the serjeant excitedly; "but let us 
 keep to the common principles of evidence." 
 
 Mr. Justice Buckstone said, however, he was 
 inclined to admit this piece of evidence de bene 
 esse, " as family repute," and that he would make 
 a note of the objection. There was then a dis- 
 cussion as to what amounted to " family repute." 
 
 Again the serjeant lay back resignedly, and 
 lookino; from side to side. 
 
 "Go on, sir," he said; "go on. Tell your 
 story any Avay you like." 
 
 And then Mr. Tilney said how Colonel Ogle 
 had told him how William Oliver had come to him 
 in a maudlin state, saying that he was undone, and 
 that there was a wretched woman in Scotland who 
 had entangled him in some of their infernal mar- 
 riage tricks, and that he was a miserable creature 
 generally. 
 
 Mr. Cobham, during this important bit of evi- 
 dence, had his eyes fixed on the jury with an ex- 
 pression almost amounting to — " What did I tell 
 you, now?" and nodded very often as Mr. Tilney 
 told his tale. 
 
 It was very hard to get that gentleman out of 
 the box; for when dismissed with a "That will
 
 184 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 do, Mr. Tilney," he would wave off that conge 
 with a '' Pardon me !" and begin again with 
 fresh but unimportant details, which, as it were, 
 lay on his conscience. 
 
 '' Quite right, Mr. Tilney ; now you can go." 
 
 ^^ Pardon me," he said. '' I have taken an 
 affidavit here to tell every particle of the truth, 
 the entire substratum of the truth, and nothing 
 whatever hut the truth — without fear, favom', or 
 affection. His lordship, I know, would not wish 
 me." 
 
 Then two highly-important letters were handed 
 in of remote date, which alluded to conversations 
 with William Oliver Davis in reference to his 
 marriage. These were objected to, on the ground 
 of j)Ost lis mota — that is, as having been written 
 at a time after the question of the disputed mar- 
 riage had arisen. 
 
 This was fiercely argued on both sides, as it 
 was really imjDortant evidence. And the two 
 counsel seem to be straining and toiling to throw 
 eacli other like Cumberland wrestlers. But the 
 judge again said with a smile, '^ He was inclined 
 to let it in de bene esse.^'' On which, Serjeant 
 Ryder flung himself into his seat angrily, and 
 said "he thought he had learned the rules of 
 evidence when he was a boy ; but it seemed he 
 must begin again. Grod bless him ! What were
 
 BOSS V. DAVIS. 185 
 
 tliey coming to ?" And he bade his learned friend 
 — and almost commanded him — ''go on." Some 
 one near Mr. Cobham heard him whisper exult - 
 ingly behind the back of his hand, "We got that 
 in cleverly — eh ? Old Buckstone is with us breast- 
 high."
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 THE VERDICT. 
 
 After this, the case proceeded rapidly. The de- 
 fendants had little evidence. But Serjeant Ryder 
 made a '^ splendid" and damaging speech, show- 
 ing up the deaf, infirm, incoherent old convict 
 ^^whom they had got" enlarged from his sen- 
 tence expressly for this case, and invariably speak- 
 ing of him as "the old convict," "my learned 
 friend's old convict," 'Uheir convict," "for this 
 indeed we have the convict's testimony," with 
 more to the like effect, which some way depre- 
 ciated the character of the plaintiff's case. He 
 denounced the whole as a " concocted case," made 
 the roof reecho with that word, and those at a 
 distance only caught the middle syllable, and 
 thought he was declaiming about poultry. Out 
 in the great hall, down the long corridors, drifted 
 those burning accents of "the counsellor's," de- 
 nouncing the whole, with a gasp, as a "hideous 
 tr-r-rumped-up case — concocted thing — concocted # 
 
 in its inception, concocted in its execution, con-
 
 THE VERDICT. 187 
 
 coated at the beginning, concocted in tlie middle, 
 concocted at the end." And he asked them con- 
 fidently (and at the same time suffering painfully 
 to the naked eye from heat) to " scouf^ this action 
 from the court. And he dropped exhausted into 
 his seat, leaving the heavy jury in a state of pettish 
 doubt and uncertainty as to what they were to 
 think or do. 
 
 Then the judge charged ; and at the close of 
 the judge's charge, Serjeant Ryder's junior, who 
 had been writing a good deal behind, put a paper 
 into his leader's hand, who thereupon stood up and 
 "tendered a bill of exceptions." Mr. Justice 
 Buckstone, who did not wish to be " annoyed 
 with the thing afterwards," said good-naturedly, 
 that "he had put the thing as clearly as possible 
 to the jury," and, if any thing, rather more fairly 
 for Serjeant Ryder's client than was consistent 
 with strict justice. " Much better leave the thing 
 to these gentlemen, who are quite capable of doing 
 substantial justice between the parties. We shall 
 only be embarrassing the case hereafter. Come, 
 now," said the judge with an insinuating sort of 
 invitation to his brother. 
 
 But his brother was cold, and stern, and hard, 
 and pressed his exceptions. 
 
 " Well, read them, read them," said the judge 
 pettishly.
 
 188 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 They were : 
 
 1. Tliat the learned ju&ge should not have ad- 
 mitted in evidence a draught-deed, and one not 
 in the handwriting of the settlor. 
 
 2. That Ogle's declaration as to a conversation 
 on the alleged Scotch marriage should have been 
 withdrawn from the jury, it not being shown that 
 Ogle and the other parties to the conversation were 
 alive or dead. 
 
 3. That the two letters should not have been 
 received as evidence, as being j^ost lis mota. 
 
 Mr. Cobham listened to his learned friend's 
 points with some anxiety, and not a little dis- 
 turbed, but was reassured by something in the 
 looks of the heavy hunting jury. Perhaps the 
 unworthy disparagement of the " convict" had 
 not so much effect, especially as he, in his reply, 
 had eflPectually rehabilitated the convict into " an 
 aged man," who had lived through many troubles 
 and youthful follies (" and let such of us as are 
 without sin, gentlemen, be the first to cast a 
 stone"), who had travelled well-nigh on " to the 
 great gates of the valley of the shadow of death, 
 like us all," and who in his long life had done 
 many things which he now wished wndone, and 
 had left things unAowQ which, &c. In this way 
 was this important witness rehabilitated. And 
 then the jury retired.
 
 THE VERDICT. 189 
 
 It was now seven o'clock. Every one was 
 rising, gathering up papers, talking pleasantly 
 and noisily, and dispersing. Hot, flushed, worn, 
 and with eyes that almost seemed to flare, Ross 
 went out of the court into the cool air. Already 
 the lamps were lighted and the gaudy grocers' 
 shops illuminated, and a crowd of lounging idlers 
 in corduroy and fiistian gathered in the middle of 
 the road. Ross came out, angrily pushing his 
 way, and muttering impatiently about " idle peo- 
 ple with nothing to do." He caught hold of his 
 solicitor. "^ Well," he asked, " how do we stand 
 now?" The other answered excitedly, "I don't 
 know, Mr. Ross. I hope you will be satisfied be- 
 fore an hour is over — fully satisfied. I have, 
 washed my hands of the whole business, long ago. 
 I hope you listened to Serjeant Ryder's speech, 
 and that that satisfied you?" 
 
 "Why didn't you retain him, then?" said 
 Ross insolently. " That was your business." 
 
 " It has been a nice mess from the beginning," 
 said Mr. Cater fiercely. " I tell you what, sir — I 
 wouldn't give twopence-halfpenny for the chance 
 of a verdict — there !" 
 
 He left him. Mr. Tilney came up with Mr. 
 Tillotson, and took Ross's arm. They walked 
 home together. " Come along !" he cried. ^" You 
 take the other, Tillotson," he said, meaning his
 
 190 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOK 
 
 arm. ^' We have all gone through a great deal 
 to-day." 
 
 " And you have picked up some encouraging 
 news — eh?" said Ross. 
 
 " I said to myself," said Mr. Tilney dreamily, 
 '' in that witness-box, tell the exact truth, the 
 whole undivided truth, and nothing in the wide 
 world but the truth — just as the words run. You 
 have no idea what a curious feeling it is. Dear 
 me ! I could have given them a perfect photo- 
 graph of the little suj^per. Ogle came in as 
 drunlv as an owl." 
 
 " What a pity you didn't tell them thatP^ said 
 Boss with a sneer. 
 
 "At all events," said Mr. Tillotson kindly, 
 "I do think there are excellent chances. I 
 thought there was a great impression made on 
 the jury; and some one near me said, I think, 
 they were all radicals to a man." 
 
 "It is very good of you to take such trouble 
 — very kind of you to say so," said Ross indif- 
 ferently, and half sneering. " Let us get along 
 quickly, for God's sake ! I want some dinner, 
 and then I must get back to that infernal court." 
 
 " There was a boy there that I ventm'ed to 
 engage to wait until the verdict came in, and then 
 drive *s hard as he could up to the Close with the 
 news. I knew you would be anxious."
 
 THE VERDICT. 191 
 
 Ross looked at liim half softened. " Very 
 good of you," he said agam. " We shall hear 
 soon enough. Ill news will travel quicker than 
 your boy." 
 
 It w^as a solemn and mournful dinner. The 
 ladies of the family had heard the foreboding as 
 to the result. Indeed, Mr. Cater had gone up 
 expressly to repeat his declaration of its possible 
 value at something under "twopence-halfpenny." 
 Mrs. Tilney glowed and coloured now and again 
 as she thought of the folly of the thing. There 
 was but little spoken. Ross sat and glared on 
 them, and at every sound outside looked with a 
 start towards the window. As he did so, he saw- 
 Mr. Tillotson talking in a low voice to Ada Mill- 
 wood : and he broke out impatiently : 
 
 " I wish you had left your boy and your cab 
 alone. I have heard it coming twenty times now. 
 And for God's sake, Ada, can't you leave that 
 trial ? You'll have plenty of time to talk of it, 
 and to gloat over it, and to say what a pity about 
 that Ross. Why wouldn't he take advice ! I 
 know the regular jeremiad. And the sensible 
 friends will lay their heads together. Confound 
 those mule-headed jurors !" he said, starting up ; 
 "can't they settle a simple case like that? And 
 yet they can sell a horse, and weigh their meal, 
 infernal dunder-headed crew ! I never saw such
 
 192 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 a collection of oafs. I knew how it would be when 
 they came into the box. But- 1 give you notice, it 
 shan't stop here ! Don't think it. I'll begin it all, 
 all again. And I sha'n't be done. I sha'n't wait 
 here any longer." And drinking off a tumbler of 
 wine, he went out of the room. 
 
 He left them sitting in silence and looking at 
 each other. Mrs. Tilney tossed her head. 
 
 ^^ He is really getting like a man possessed," 
 she said. 
 
 ^'He is excited," said Mr. Tilney. "Sur- 
 prising ! Yet I declare, when I went up into that 
 box to-day, I just felt as if I were going in to 
 dinner — twenty-two, you know, and the Chief- 
 Justice there sitting at the head." 
 
 " We must make allowance for him," said Mr. 
 Tillotson gently, " at this jDarticular moment. He 
 is naturally excited." 
 
 " But," said Mrs. Tilney, " we have always to 
 be making allowances. He is always the same 
 rude, unbearable creature that you see him to- 
 night ; to myself I can only say that he is unvary- 
 ingly rude — rude." 
 
 An hour went by. Boss came back, tired, 
 jaded, with a sort of hopelessness in his face. 
 Mrs. Tilney read it off, and started up. 
 
 " There ! He has lost !" she cried. " I told 
 you so ; I always said so."
 
 THE VERDICT. 193 
 
 "Hush!" said Mr. Tillotson, authoritatively. 
 " They have not * found' yet, I am sure. Is it 
 not so?" 
 
 " Your superior divination," said Ross, " has 
 hit it off. That old woman who tried it has just 
 called them out, and they say there are some of 
 them won't agree, and he wants to discharge them. 
 The infernal old ass wants to go home and drink 
 his claret, and go to bed after his debauch ; but 
 Cobham, who is good for something, has made 
 him send them back for an hour or two. I hope 
 to God he'll make him lock 'em all up for the night 
 without fire or candles, and starve their fat car- 
 cases into common sense ! I'd like to give 'em a 
 lesson all round that they wouldn't forget in a 
 hurry !" 
 
 He was almost savage with vexation and sus- 
 pense. Mr. Tillotson had gone away. Another 
 horn- passed by, then half an hour. Suddenly 
 they heard wheels. They rushed to the window. 
 It was the dean's carriage passing by. 
 
 " It's only that apostle Ridley coming home 
 gorged! * Blessed are the poor in spirit.' You 
 have a nice pack of drones down here, haven't 
 you ? There's one just gone home to the hive." 
 
 "Where's Mr. Tillotson, Augusta?" said Mrs 
 Tilney. " Was he to come back ?" 
 
 " He's in his bed, of course," said Rosa ; 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ^^ tucked in like a precise Puritan as lie is. 
 What's the fancy you have all taken to that fel- 
 low ? Any one that knew any thing of the world 
 would see he was nothing but a common city 
 
 prig." 
 
 Mrs. Tilney did not answer. 
 
 ("I hold/' she had always said to her friends, 
 " as little communication as I can with him.") 
 
 Wheels again. 
 
 " There !" said Ross. " More drones for the 
 hive. Why don't you all get up and rush to the 
 window ?" 
 
 But the wheels did not pass the window. A 
 cab had stopped at the little green gate. There 
 was a quick patter of steps on the gravel of the 
 little walk. There were voices — voices of the soli- 
 citor and Mr. Cobham. Mr. Tillotson, opening the 
 door, had rushed in with a radiant face — a face of 
 real joy and satisfaction. 
 
 ^' It is all safe !" he cried. " You have gained! 
 The jury have found for you !" 
 
 The whole family fell into a sort of tumult. 
 They forgot their conventional restraint before 
 company, and uttered a cry of joy. 
 
 Ross stood in the middle, looking round with 
 exulting eyes, and for a moment without speak- 
 ing. 
 
 "Ah! What did I tell you?" he said. "What
 
 THE VERDICT. 195 
 
 did I always say? Do me justice now at least. 
 Who shall say the bold game isn't the best 
 — eh ? Who has the best eyes and the best wit — 
 eh?" 
 
 " Indeed, William, we were all wrong," said 
 Mrs. Tilney, obsequiously. 
 
 "It is wonderful," said Mr. Tillotson, almost 
 with enthusiasm; "and I am really so glad. I 
 congratulate you again and again, Mr. Boss." 
 
 " Thank you," said the other with some soft- 
 ness ; " I am obliged to you." 
 
 " And where is Miss Ada ?" said Mr. Tillotson. 
 " We must tell her. Ah ! here she is." 
 
 She canie gliding softly in, without somid al- 
 most. She read the good news in all their faces. 
 She went up to the centre figure ; the yellow hair 
 and the calm soft face beneath it were lit up as 
 with a saint's glory. 
 
 "Dear, dear William, I am so happy!" she 
 said. 
 
 " My lodgings are not far from here," said 
 Mr. Cobham, " so I thought I would look in and 
 let you know. Very glad indeed — very." 
 
 "You did wonders, sir, professionally," said 
 Mr. Tilney, complimentarily. " You laboured 
 through the dust and the heats. We owe it all 
 to you, sir, and I think a little to my testimony in 
 that box."
 
 196 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " And to some other little help too," said Mr. 
 Cobham, smiling. " Mr. Koss, just one word out- 
 side here." 
 
 They both walked out — down the path to the 
 little gate. It was a calm night. The cathedral 
 rose before them like a great Head on a shore, 
 with a cold blue waste behind it. 
 
 ^' Fine thing that church of yours," said Mr. 
 Cobham. " Well, look here ; we have pulled 
 through this, with a squeak, indeed. Take my 
 advice, don't lose an hour in settling." 
 
 "Settle," said Koss, starting; "what d'ye 
 mean ?" 
 
 " Settle, settle, settle ; just as Sir Robert said, 
 ' Register, register, register.' It was next door 
 to a miracle. You had a bull-headed jury, and 
 the most ignorant judge on the bench. Why, sir, 
 the verdict won't stand a minute ! We'll be upset 
 on the exceptions." 
 
 "But surely t/ou said they were — " 
 
 " In court, of course, we must do the best we 
 can. Ryder was perfectly right ; he had no busi- 
 ness to admit those letters. Once the verdict is 
 set aside, and we have only our convict to go 
 upon ! A nice fellow that, by the way ! How- 
 ever, that's my advice, you know, and you can do 
 as you like." 
 
 "0, of course," said Ross coldly. " You
 
 THE VERDICT. 197 
 
 mean it well, and all that sort of thing. 0, of 
 course, we shall consider it." 
 
 "Just as you like," said the other; and walked 
 away to tell the " brother" who shared his lodg- 
 ings what a cold-blooded, ill-conditioned client 
 he had pulled through as " up-hill a case" as ever 
 he saw, and yet the savage had never asked him 
 to dinner, or so much as thanked him.
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 THE dean's party. 
 
 When the result of the trial was known, there 
 was a marked reaction in favour of the plaintiff: 
 The little public of the place did not care to con- 
 sider Serjeant Ryder's " bill of exceptions," or 
 the " points" he had saved, but only looked to the 
 substantial fact of the verdict. It took every one 
 by sui'prise ; and every one was now lost in ad- 
 miration of the spirit, energy, "pluck," and 
 " gameness" with which young Ross had held 
 on to his purpose, in spite of all advice and ob- 
 stacles — even the great Doctor Topham, who had 
 always shown an angry contempt for him, and 
 had said openly, " that the fellow had neither wit, 
 brains, nor sense !" 
 
 Later, Mr. Tilney came to his friend with 
 somewhat more hopeful views of human nature. 
 " Here's that dean — Ridley, you know, Lord 
 Rooksby's brother — has sent us this for to- 
 morrow night. You are to come. Mrs. Ridley 
 saw you last Sunday at the sermon, and asked 
 who you were."
 
 THE dean's party. 199 
 
 " I never care," said Mr. Tillotson — "I never 
 go to parties. I fear I must be going away. I 
 have been here longer than I intended." 
 
 " Nonsense. I am very glad of this," said Mr. 
 Tilney ; " it will amuse us. They do the thing 
 very well at that house, I can tell you. I hear 
 the Secretary is coming down to-night, and I 
 suppose they want to make what they can of him. 
 The poor Dook had a kind of seafaring chaplain 
 for his secretary^ — Bowdler — and gave away all 
 the good things. I could tell you something 
 about him, uncommon good too, but the mis- 
 tress is waiting. We'll make a little party of it, 
 and go together. Do, now. We do these sort 
 of things, you see, better here ; and," he added 
 confidentially, " that is why I would sooner live 
 here in plain St. Alans than in all your racketing 
 London rout. That did very well, Tillotson, fifty 
 years ago ; but I want a little breathing time 
 between this and the little vault over there." 
 This he delivered sonorously, like the close of a 
 chant. 
 
 The dean, who had preached for the Mariners 
 on the Sunday, was indeed brother to Lord 
 Rooksby ; and though the mere knowledge of 
 the relationship fetched the price it ought to do 
 in this provincial market, still it was felt that by 
 the occasional exhibition of the noble relative,
 
 200 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 much greater profit might be turned out of this little 
 capital. For a time there is an awe and rever- 
 ence among the rustics, from the expectation that 
 a noble ghost may walk at any hour. But soon 
 a feeling of utter incredulity arrives. This was 
 the tone of the public mind as to Dean Ridley's 
 brother. 
 
 The deanery was an old house, with an enor- 
 mous roof, like one of the steep stands the 
 dean himself read from in the cathedral, with 
 two tall chimneys at each side, also very like 
 the lights at the side of the stand. It stood by 
 itself in a garden, and had tall lanky windows, 
 with many little panes in each ; altogether, with 
 a rustic ancient French-chateau air over it, and 
 with the sort of dim reference to the cathedral an 
 old retainer has to an old family. 
 
 The Very Rev. Lord Rooksby's brother had, 
 however, put it in thorough repair when his noble 
 brother's interest had brought him the deanery 
 (of course charging his predecessor's executors 
 with dilapidation, and his own successors with 
 restorations), and out of his own resources had 
 fitted up the house very handsomely. Mrs. Dean 
 and the Miss Deans having got down Lord 
 Rooksby for a day or two, had determined to 
 " cash," discount, mortgage, and exhibit that 
 noble person in every possible way that profit
 
 201 
 
 could be made, or a penny of social pride 
 '^ turned" on him. 
 
 Tlie dean himself was a mild and amiable man, 
 but whose life was literally a burden to him, 
 from the joint terrorism exercised by Mrs. Bid- 
 ley and Doctor Topham. With Mrs. Ridley 
 singly he might have dealt ; against Doctor Top- 
 ham and his rude tyi'anny, his connection with 
 the Treasury, and his secret influence with the 
 bishop, he might have made some stand ; but 
 the cabals of the place, and the confusion brought 
 by Doctor Topham' s dislikes and despotism, his 
 proclaimed purpose to get this man and that man 
 " out," harassed and worried him beyond belief. 
 
 He had been taught by Mrs. Ridley to like 
 good society, and he would have liked it, had he 
 been allowed ; for on visits at " good houses" he 
 found some peace and quiet, after the distractions 
 of his own. And now, Mrs. Ridley having got 
 down the Lord Rooksby, and learning, moreover, 
 from her friend and accomplice, Doctor Topham, 
 that the famous " Right Honourable Frederick 
 Topham" could spare twenty-four hours from 
 the Treasury, and was flying down to his brother 
 on some family business, for that time only, 
 thought it would be a splendid idea to exhibit 
 these two luminaries in combination, and con- 
 certed measures for that purpose with Doctor
 
 202 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Topliam. The Doctor also thought it would be 
 a good idea, and entered into it, agreeing to let 
 out his distinguished relative for that night. And 
 very soon it became known that there was to be 
 a great dinner-party at the deanery, with a faint 
 rumour, to which, in some bosoms, hope was 
 father, that the crowd might be admitted in " the 
 evening" to a railed-off place, whence they might 
 gaze their fill at the splendid strangers. 
 
 From afar off, across the common, the long 
 lanky windows could be seen lighted up. The 
 festival was known, and the selection of guests 
 caused bitter heartburnings. Asking every stall 
 in the cathedral, that was absurd; and when it 
 was considered that every stall held a wife and 
 large family, the thing became more absurd still. 
 Some of the excluded came privily, and actually 
 skulked about the common to watch the festivities 
 they could not share in. 
 
 The dean's noble brother. Lord Rooksby, stood 
 not in any reserved place, with a railing round 
 him, or in an exhibitor's case — but simply as 
 any other man in the room. He was very tall, 
 had gray hair, and a dried yellow face, which he 
 kept very high, and well thrown back, and was 
 explaining quietly to the archdeacon and Doctor 
 Topham, who had dined, " what it seemed to him 
 should be done with the Church. " As the Tilney
 
 THE dean's party. 203 
 
 party entered in a long file, the whole room, 
 with its contents, seemed in a state of rest and 
 happiness, reposing after the state dinner, and 
 content with the beatific vision of the nobleman 
 who had " come among them." 
 
 There was to be music. Mrs. Kidley had 
 ordered some of the choir serfs to attend. These 
 gathered behind the piano, and kept together 
 for mutual protection, waiting until they should 
 be wanted. They were caged until their voices 
 were set free and allowed to spring. Mr. Hart 
 was there, the dreadful bass, the Polypheme of the 
 choir, with a beard and whiskers like a deep black 
 cactus, suggesting an awful idea of vocal strength. 
 There was also Mr. Yokel, the counter tenor, 
 and Doctor Fugle, the seraphic tenor, but now 
 without his seraphim's robe, and looking any 
 thing but spiritual. In his stall, with the robe 
 on, with an indistinct hint as of wings folded up 
 behind, he was, so to speak, carried off*. But 
 here, behind the piano, he was revealed as a 
 rather coarse, oily-cheeked, large- whiskered, and 
 very earthy being. 
 
 The Tilney girls sat down, a little desponding 
 from this gloomy state of things ; for the ho- 
 rizon being darkened with great black ecclesias- 
 tical firs and cypresses, did not promise much. 
 They sat round and waited. Mr. Tilney, who
 
 204 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 had an aptitude for " getting on," now recollected 
 his old arts, got into his old social armour, and 
 had presently secured Lord Rooksby by an allu- 
 sion to a fellow-equerry whom his lordship had 
 also known. Minor canons looked on from afar at 
 this wonderful instance of the power of knowledge 
 of the world. 
 
 Both the great lights were present, who di- 
 vided popular admiration. The public might 
 regard the dean's brother, of whom they had 
 heard so much, with curiosity ; but they looked 
 with awe, and a yet greater interest, on that Doc- 
 tor Topham, that very Czar of the little place, 
 who was known to rule the men and women, the 
 high and low, and almost disj)ose of their persons 
 and chattels with a despotism that was frightful. 
 And there beside him was the Right Honourable 
 Frederick, a spare gentleman, with a stearine 
 face, in a little group of his own, explaining 
 something with extraordinary fluency and volu- 
 bility. The crowd looked on with wonder at 
 these two little groups, and saw with mysterious 
 awe Doctor Topham pass from one to the other 
 indifferently, and assert his rude rough-shod su- 
 premacy over the Lord Rooksby himself, by nois- 
 ily, and with angry language, telling him the 
 '' wretched state" of things here, and that the 
 whole chapter wanted a sound " purging."
 
 THE dean's party. 205 
 
 Presently Dr. Fugle, and some half-dozen of 
 the pariahs confined behind the piano, fell into 
 line without leaving their prison, and began some 
 " part-singing." 
 
 Under cover of this entertainment, which 
 seemed the signal for easy and fluent conversa- 
 tion, Mr. Tillotson drew near to Miss Millwood, 
 before whom a youthful and bashful vicar-choral 
 was standing up and talking. The golden hair 
 gleamed under the lights. There was a soft 
 melancholy in her face. She heard the vicar- 
 choral, but with a degree of attention that could 
 not have been very flattering to that gentleman, 
 who unjustly set down her distraction to quite 
 another reason. "That old Tilney," he told a 
 brother choralist, going home, " introduced her 
 to the lord, and it quite upset her." But the lord, 
 to Mr. Tilney's great pride, had asked him who 
 was that " remarkable - looking young woman 
 over there, who had really quite an air about 
 her?" And he had brought the lord to her. The 
 Miss Tilneys had seen the introduction, and moved 
 with indignation in their chairs. It seemed like 
 the wicked elder sisters, indignant at Cinderella 
 being sent for to the palace. 
 
 Then the choir gentlemen began their minstrelsy. 
 It was part-singing for which these artists were 
 deservedly famed. " Ah ! why, my love, she siglis
 
 206 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 for me !" by Wagner, in very close harmonies, 
 and in which Doctor Fugle's tenor, coming out of 
 a little hole at the corner of his mouth, produced 
 a great effect. He sang as if he were in his stall, 
 and with his eyes fixed on the little rosette of the 
 gaselier, just as they used to be on the groining of 
 the cathedral. The voices were considered to come 
 out finely, especially with the rough and powerful 
 "street-pavement" voice of Mr. Rogers ; especially, 
 too, where they all came in together, with an up- 
 and-down languishing, and increasing stress and 
 vigour: " My — love is — see-e^eing — is see-ei/eing 
 — is sighing all for-r-r-r-r," in a note prolonged 
 before the final descent, " me !" That me rolled 
 away, in fluttering waves, into silence.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DAKKNESS AGAIN. 
 
 Mr. Tillotson had gone over to Ada Millwood. 
 She had beckoned to him. " I wanted to speak 
 to you," she said. " He went away this morning. 
 It is the best thing for him, and for us all. But 
 forgive me if I ask you — but that night I saw 
 him — at least I am sure it was he — go up to you 
 on the green. How much you have suffered from 
 him, and so kindly borne with for him, I can 
 guess. And I do fear that — " 
 
 ^' No, no, I understand him perfectly. I did 
 make some allowance for him hitherto, but I begin 
 to see that he has some incurable dislike to me. 
 I have not the art of pleasing people. But he is 
 gone, and, I suppose, will not come back." 
 
 " I suppose will not come back !" she repeated 
 a little absently. " He talked of changing into 
 some other regiment. It will be all for the 
 best." 
 
 " Ah, if he had even the tact to know those
 
 208 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 who are inclined to befriend him !" said Mr. Til- 
 lotson, warmly. 
 
 "And so you are goinoj away too," she said 
 suddenly. " Going in the morning?" 
 
 " Yes, going back to the solitude — of the 
 world. I am very glad of this opportunity, for 
 I wished to speak to you before I went. In- 
 deed, I should hardly have come here but for such 
 a hope. There ! They are beginning another of 
 their glees. I have seen a great deal of your 
 family life," he went on hastily. " I know you 
 will forgive me what I am going to say, but you 
 will give me credit for w^ishing to show that I 
 would like to serve you. You have all been so 
 kind to me, and I begin now to feel very desolate 
 when left to myself. I could not help seeing many 
 things in your house which I must have shut my 
 eyes not to have seen." 
 
 Her eyes dropped upon the ground, and she 
 did not answer. 
 
 " Again I ask you to forgive what I am going 
 to say. The way of life in which I live quickens 
 our observation. I have guessed a great deal more 
 than I have seen ; guessed that you — forgive me, 
 I say again — were not so happy in that house as 
 you deserve to be. Miss Millwood ; and that though 
 the family, I suppose, is affectionate, their hopes 
 and wishes and aims of life are so different, that — "
 
 DARKNESS AGAIN. 209 
 
 "But why should you thmk this?" she an- 
 swered gently, and as if wishing him to go on ; 
 " no one has surely told you ?" 
 
 "Told me! no. But I have an instinct 
 that we — that you and I — have suffered much 
 the same. I fancy I have no one to under- 
 stand me ; that even in a crowd I am alone. That 
 every thing in life for me is cold, cheerless. From 
 the moment I entered your house, from the mo- 
 ment, too, that you entered the room on that first 
 night, something seemed to tell me [that your life 
 was like mine. Forgive me this absurdity." 
 
 " Mr. Tillotson," she said softly, " I do, indeed, 
 know you, and believe you. Perhaps I have had 
 some little sorrows of my own. Not, however, to 
 compare with yours. No ! no !" 
 
 " Little sorrows," answered he ; " no, no. Then 
 they are all for the world. They do not understand 
 you. They never will, and I do not blame them. 
 They cannot be what they have not power to be. 
 But it is different for you. It will grow worse as 
 time goes on. Every day it will become worse ; 
 the isolation and desolation will become unendur- 
 able. You feel it — ^you must feel it every day." 
 
 " Yes," she said quietly, without lifting her 
 eyes. 
 
 " I know," he went on. " I have had dismal 
 experience myself. For years I have scarcely 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 known life properly. Within this week or so I 
 have begun to feel life, the air, the warmth of the 
 sun. 0, such life, air, and warmth !" He said 
 this with no melodramatic stress or attitude ; but 
 calmly, as he said every thing else. She could 
 not suspect that there was any secret meaning 
 in it. 
 
 (The labouring men were now drawing a heavy 
 vocal roller over a rude macadamised road, and by 
 desire of Lord Rooksby were repeating the song. 
 They were hard at " My love is see-eye-ing ;" 
 then, on a story higher, ^' my love is ^QQ-eye-mg 
 — is sighing for-r-r — me !" Neither Mr. Tillotson 
 nor his companion heard these vocal labouring 
 men.) 
 
 He went on : '' What would I propose, what 
 would I advise? you will ask. Recollect, I am 
 going away, and have the privilege of a man on 
 the scaffold. I seem to see one chance before me. 
 It may prove to be a delusion — a will-o'-the-wisp 
 — like every thing else in life ; but if I dared to 
 speak plainly ? — " 
 
 " She looked up hurriedly. " What can you 
 advise? There is nothing that you could know, 
 or could say, unless — " 
 
 " Ah ! it may be no remedy after all," he went 
 on quickly ; " but it might. You have been kind to 
 me, 0, so kind ! I have felt that you sympathised
 
 DARKNESS AGAIN. 211 
 
 with me. More I could not hope for. But perhaps 
 in time — ^perhaps compassion for one who has been 
 so miserable and hopeless — " 
 
 She looked at him. " 0, Mr. Tillotson," she 
 said in alarm, " what do you wish me to say ?" 
 
 " If I were any one else, or belonged more 
 to the ways of the world, I might hide what I 
 am going to say behind all manner of delicate 
 hints. But it is better to speak plainly, is it 
 not?" 
 
 " No, no, no," she said hastily. " Dear Mr. 
 Tillotson, I implore you — no. Don't speak about 
 that 0, why did you? This so grieves me !" 
 
 He started, almost rose, with a kind of half 
 groan. " Have I made one more mistake ?" he said 
 sadly. " Ah, I can see I have. I was going to 
 ask you to leave this place — to come and begin a 
 new, and what I believe would be a happier, life. 
 Happier for us both. I have money and in- 
 fluence ; these, too, would help to make you 
 happy ; and, as far as the supremest devotion — " 
 he looked in her face, and paused. " Ah, but I 
 see — one more mistake." 
 
 " Dear Mr. Tillotson," she said almost passion- 
 ately, " how call I thank you ! But it is impos- 
 sible. There are reasons ! If you knew — 0, 
 never, never, never !" 
 
 " Ah ! I might have guessed this. It is the
 
 212 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 old fortune. ^^ It was the only chance left to me. 
 It may go with the rest. There is the music be- 
 ginning again." 
 
 It was the grinders at work once more. Doctor 
 Fugle and his oarsmen labouring through another 
 glee — to oblige the company. 
 
 ^^ What will you think of me?" she said, 
 despairingly. " I don't know what to say. You 
 will despise me, because you will think I led 
 you on to this. But I did not mean it to do 
 so. Indeed no ! Tell me that you do not think 
 so." 
 
 " My fate and my mistake ! I thought," said 
 he, hopelessly, " that from the beginning you 
 seemed to treat me with interest and kindness, 
 and I stupidly mistook that kindness. I have 
 made a hundred such blunders in my life. No, it 
 was all my fault." 
 
 " Yes, I did feel an interest," she said, with 
 some hesitation, " and I admired and pitied. I saw 
 that you were alone, and — ^" 
 
 " To be sure. I understand. But I thought 
 as there was no one else you cared for — and 
 though for a moment I thought that he who has 
 left us had some influence, still what you had told 
 me settled that — and — ' 
 
 " Yes, yes," she said hastily. 
 
 Mr. Tilney here came up with an air of mystery.
 
 DARKNESS AGAIN. 213 
 
 " Tillotson," he said, '^ a word. What fine music 
 that is ! Fugle is next door but one to divine, 
 ain't he ? Whenever I hear that man he quite 
 Hfts me up. 0, I say! A letter to-night from 
 that scapegrace." 
 
 ^' From Mr. Boss?" 
 
 " Not at all so bad a creature as you would 
 fancy. Good at bottom. I tell Mrs. Tilney this 
 will all wear off in time. My dear sir, Bushell, 
 the best counsel in England, tells us that the de- 
 cision is all wrong in law — must go overboard, sir 
 — he is sure of reversing it, and, not only that, but 
 certain of winning in the end. With all his faults, 
 he has a pure game spirit. I like him for it — I do ! 
 Not only that, but he has wormed out an old lady 
 who is to furnish him with the pieces to carry on' 
 the war. Wonderful his tact. I wish I had had 
 his spirit when I was his age !" 
 
 " So, then," said Mr. Tillotson calmly, " we 
 may consider his prospects restored ?" 
 
 " As good as restored. Even if he loses, he 
 don't know what the old lady may do for him. 
 Wonderful, wonderful," he added devoutly, '' are 
 the ways of the Providence overhead !" 
 
 '' Yes," said Mr. Tillotson absently, and looking 
 over at the golden-haired Miss Millwood. 
 
 In another half-hour the Tilney party were walk- 
 ing home. As they were getting their " things,"
 
 214 THE SECOND MRS.. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Mr, Tillotson heard some one whisper him, " 0, 
 once more forgive me !" 
 
 He almost smiled. " You might have told me 
 every thing," he said ; " but no matter now." 
 
 " I had nothing to tell," she said ; " but I am 
 going to ask you for something more. You will 
 not mention to Mr. Tilney what you have said to- 
 night. I have a reason." 
 
 " That also I can understand perfectly," he said 
 bitterly. 
 
 " But I fear you do not understand me," she 
 said passionately and loudly, so that the maid who 
 was getting her cloak stared. 
 
 They walked home slowly. ^^ So sorry that 
 you are going," Mrs. Tilney said, with what any 
 body who did not know her well would have sup- 
 posed a smile of delight. " Shall quite miss you, 
 Mr. Tillotson. Now you must promise us to come 
 very soon again. Augusta here says she feels 
 improved by knoAving you. Good-bye, then. Good- 
 bye, Mr. Tillotson." 
 
 They were at the gate of their house, among 
 the luxuriant hedges and flowers which almost hid 
 it. Augusta, who knew the keys of the human 
 voice far better than she did those of regular music, 
 threw some pathos into her voice. At this moment 
 she felt some peftitence for opportunities neglected, 
 and wished that she had renounced the military
 
 DARKNESS AGAIN. 215 
 
 works and pomps for the more substantial blessings 
 whose superior advantages she now saw. 
 
 The third girl stood behind them all, half up 
 the walk leading to the house. Where the sisters 
 were prominent, it was understood and expected 
 that she should keep retired. The moon was out. 
 As a background there was the old house over- 
 grown with great cushions of leaves, with lights in 
 its small windows, and looking like a scene. The 
 moonlight, too, fell upon her pale face, and lit her 
 up like a tinted statue. 
 
 "Your kindness I shall not forget, Mr. Til- 
 ney. I must say good-bye to them." And he 
 passed them and went up the walk. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said hastily. " Depend on 
 my secrecy, as indeed you might suppose. Men 
 do not publish their own mortifications." 
 
 " Forgive me !" she said again, very piteously. 
 "0, forgive me ! I have not told you every 
 thing. I dare not." 
 
 " Ah ! That does not mend it much," he 
 said, with deep grief and suffering. " It comes 
 to the same thing. Unless," he added, almost im- 
 ploringly, " it means that after some time — years 
 even — " 
 
 She shook her head sadly. " No, no," she said, 
 " I may not even say that Ah ! what can I do ?" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson looked down. " Then so be it.
 
 216 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Promise me tliis, at least, if ever you should want 
 aid or assistance of any kind for yourself or for 
 thetUj you will send for me. Will you promise me 
 that^ at least?" 
 
 The others had now reached him. ^'Good-bye 
 again," they said ; and passed into the house. 
 
 ^^ I do, I do," she said eagerly. 
 
 "A solemn pledge, I mean," he said hur- 
 riedly, " not to be lightly spoken. Let me look 
 to some little relation to you in the future. It 
 will be a gleam of light before me. 0, what 
 infatuation ! For these few weeks I actually 
 thought the sun was coming and the sunny days, 
 and that the clouds were all behind. Only one 
 more delusion," he added, with a smile, " to put 
 to the rest ! Well, you promise ?" 
 
 (Mrs. Tilney's voice was heard calling shrilly, 
 "Ada!") 
 
 " I do, I do promise. Indeed I do ! Don't 
 think ill of me, but be indulgent. I cannot tell 
 you every thing. There, dear Mr. TiUotson, good- 
 bye, God bless you, and make you happy." 
 
 She seemed to fade out. He saw her pass 
 into the illuminated doorway, where the light was 
 shed on her golden hair for the last time. Even 
 then, and at that distance, he saw a sweet, 
 grieved, and most wistful look turned to the dark- 
 ness where he had been left. Then she was gone.
 
 DAKKNESS AGAIN. 217 
 
 Mr. Tilney's loud voice seemed to waken liim 
 up. '' Going back to town, going back to town, 
 Tillotson?" he said, as if meditating. ^^Yeiy 
 well. Going back and plunging into the vortex ! 
 What would I take and change with you ? I vow 
 and protest I like our little things here — nice 
 people, you know, better than all your routs, and 
 drums, and balls, and parties. ' We never can get 
 you out, Tilney,' H.II.H. said to me over and over 
 again. ' Why are you always holing at home in 
 this confounded retirement ?' Ah ! No quiet for 
 me, Tillotson, until we get to our old friend over 
 there," pointing at the old cathedral, now all but 
 steeped in moonlight. ^^ The one thing, you 
 know, Tillotson. The only thing, after all !" 
 
 Mr. Tillotson, who by this time knew the 
 course that these reflections would take, did not 
 reply to them, but told Mr. Tilney a piece of news 
 that was very gratifying to him. " The company 
 have agreed to make you a director. I got the 
 answer to-night. A paid director too." 
 
 He started with delight. " A director ! My 
 dear Tillotson, this is goodness ! this is friendship ! 
 to get back to the old place. I shall be able to 
 draw breath now. I am consumed, wasting in 
 this hole." (In a second Mr. Tilney had for- 
 gotten the one thing necessary.) 
 
 Mr. Tillotson set him right on this point.
 
 218 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 *^ You shall hear more about it," he said. " I 
 must go now. I have to set out early. Good- 
 bye ! Thanks for all kindness !" 
 
 " God bless you ! God bless you, Tillotson !" 
 Then the other walked back in the moonlight to 
 desolation and to the White Hart, listening to the 
 clock striking twelve, and thinking that with that 
 hour ended a short dream of happiness. He sat 
 long in his ancient room, which seemed as blank, 
 as desolate, and even mouldy as his own heart. 
 Sometimes he paced to and fro, and struck his 
 forehead with his hand. '^ One more miserable 
 delusion," he said. " Stupid, insensible, folly, 
 folly, as well as guilt!" And so he sat on and 
 walked until the cold morning light began to steal 
 in through the ancient red curtain of the White 
 Hart's window. By the first train, which left at 
 six, he had gone — not to London, but to another 
 town, where he was to stay a few hours, and then 
 go up. Now all the white walls and cold peniten- 
 tial passages of the world were before him.
 
 §00h i^t S^C0nb. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On the platform of the Waterloo station, where 
 the trains were screaming in and screaming out, 
 an elderly gentleman, that leaned on a stick and 
 limped a little as he walked, was waiting for a 
 particular train to come in. He was thin and 
 stooped, had a very high Roman nose and well- 
 curled brown whiskers, which gave him an almost 
 warlike expression ; but his blue eyes, with which 
 he looked to the right and to the left, were the 
 softest and the gentlest in the world. They fell on 
 the al-fresco bookseller, who was doing so large an 
 open-air business in gamboge-covered books, and 
 straps, and railway rugs, and opera-glasses, and 
 the spare moments of whose life seemed to be 
 employed in cutting leaves. The soft eye fell on 
 this overworked official, and he limped up to him 
 to ask for information. 
 
 " Just out, sir. Quite new," the bookseller said, 
 touching with his paper-knife an orange-coloured
 
 220 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 book, as clean and fresh as a newly-baked loaf. It 
 was, indeed, not an hour from its own oven. 
 
 The lame gentleman shook his head and smiled. 
 " If you printed a little larger," he said, taking- 
 it up ; " or, I suppose, if I were only twenty years 
 younger — " 
 
 " Well, there's better paper and print now 
 than there used to be," the other went on, cut- 
 ting desperately. " We sell 'em by the bushel." 
 
 "And now let us see," said the gentleman, 
 taking up a book, putting on a pair of glasses 
 very low on his nose, and looking sideways at it. 
 " What is all this about ? Thaddeus of Warsaw. 
 God bless me ! I am very glad of that — very. 
 Why, that's a really fine work." 
 
 " A classic, sir," said the bookseller, who had 
 learned to read his customers like his books. 
 " Considered a reg'lar classic. They don't write 
 such things nowadays." 
 
 " 0, I declare I must have Thaddeus," said the 
 gentleman, taking out his purse. " And I hope, 
 sir, you sell a great many copies. I read it years 
 ago, and was delighted with it. Two shillings ! 
 God bless me, how cheaply they bring out these 
 things ! How can they do it, the creatures, and 
 keep themselves? There. Thank you." And he 
 moved away, looked tlu'ough the double glass still 
 on his nose down at the gorgeously chromatic por-
 
 " THE captain's" NIECES. 221 
 
 trait of Tliaddeus which was on the back of his 
 yellow book. The bookseller looked after him with 
 some interest, as he saw the deep respect of the 
 gentleman for the story, and his sincere admiration 
 for the outside picture. 
 
 He ran after him. ''' Let me tie it up for you, 
 sir, and put it in paper." 
 
 The gentleman thanked him warmly, and then 
 put Thaddeus safely in his pocket. 
 
 He was presently leaning on his stick, talking 
 to a conversational porter, who was pointing here 
 and there, and over to this building and that. He 
 was telling about their professional life, and how 
 their rounds of duty were managed, and how 'ard 
 the work was, and how much " 'arder paid." That 
 led on into the duty of working signals, which 
 led again to their curious mechanism. 
 
 " See that now! Most interesting and curious !" 
 said the gentleman, in pleased wonder. " And tell 
 me, now, what sort of lighthouse is that up there ? 
 The poor people seem to me to live up there alto- 
 gether." 
 
 '' If you step this way," the man said, mys- 
 teriously, " I'll show you the whole thing, sir. 
 Nobody ain't allowed to get down on the line," 
 he added, with a great air of suspicion ; " but Di 
 manage it. The superintendent's at his dinner." 
 And in a very short time the gentleman was limp-
 
 222 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 ing quietly up some steep steps, and was actually 
 up in the glass roost where men pull at iron 
 handles all day and night long. There a chair 
 had been rubbed clean ; and with his chin on the 
 top of his stick he was presently in free and 
 pleasant conversation with the chief of that little 
 establishment and the whole staff. When he went 
 away, it was agreed in that little community that 
 he was " as a nice friendly sort of gentleman as 
 you could ask to meet." 
 
 It will have been seen, from these two trifling 
 little incidents, that this lame gentleman was one 
 of the few who have the delightful art of attract- 
 ing the common passers on the highway of life 
 without any trouble, who get a kindly nod even if 
 they cannot stop, and who have that surprisingly 
 useful gift of making a friend of the man with 
 whom they stand under an archway during a 
 shower of rain. The name of this gentleman 
 was Diamond — Captain Thomas Diamond, of the 
 Royal Veteran Battalion. 
 
 "I am waiting," he said to the fi'iendly 
 porter, with whom he was now on the most con- 
 fidential terms, " for two ladies, nieces of mine, 
 and I have never seen them since they were that 
 high. And really, now, I don't know how I shall 
 make them out when they do come." 
 
 It was a puzzling thing, but it often occurred ;
 
 223 
 
 someway, it always came right, the porter said. 
 " There was a look about them by which you 
 knew. You saw two young women a-getting 
 out of the train, and you knew at once they were 
 your young women." 
 
 The captain owned there was good sense in 
 this observation, founded, as it was, on an exten- 
 sive experience of human nature — at least, of the 
 human nature that arrives in some fifty or sixty 
 trains daily. " I daresay you are right," he 
 said. " 'Pon my word, there is a great deal of 
 sense in what you say." 
 
 " You just take your stand, it may be there, 
 sir," said the porter, illustrating his remark, and 
 encouraged by this praise, " and look out for the 
 first two young women you see standing in the 
 open door, or lookin' up and down the line for 
 some one. And they'll be your two young women 
 — I'll lay you a crown." 
 
 This allusion to the coin might have been 
 accidental, but it gave a sort of hint to Captain 
 Diamond, who thanked him very warmly for his 
 kindness, and took something out of his purse, 
 which he gave with great mystery, not wishing 
 publicly to violate the company's regulations. 
 
 The train was now seen far off along the plat- 
 form, and in a moment there was a rush of officials 
 from private doors, and a restlessness in drivers and
 
 224 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 horses and cabs, a backing, and a plunging, and 
 a gesticulating, while every one was looking out 
 at the edge, as if a ship were coming alongside 
 the pier. And in a moment the train came in, 
 rumbling and rolling, and making the roof rever- 
 berate ; and the engine was pulled up suddenly, 
 shedding steam and dew, and dripping like an 
 exhausted racer. In a second doors flew open, 
 and the platform seemed to have generated a new 
 race of men and women, who came into a cold 
 world with cloaks and wrappers and caps on, and 
 baskets in their hands. 
 
 The porter had, indeed, shown a profound 
 instinct ; for, exactly as he had foretold, the cap- 
 tain saw two ladies in the doorway of a carriage, 
 looking up and down anxiously. Often after- 
 wards he would begin praising railway porters 
 heartily for their instinct and " willingness," say- 
 ing they were the most intelligent class of men 
 in the world. 
 
 The captain limped up to the door, and touch- 
 ing his hat — he was a little near-sighted, and 
 always read with spectacles — which was a little 
 like a bishop's, said, with great deference, " I 
 beg your pardon, but perhaps you are looking for — " 
 
 " Ah ! it is uncle," cried the elder of the 
 ladies. " Uncle Diamond, we are your nieces." 
 
 " I thought so," he said, taking both their 
 
 /
 
 225 
 
 hands, and helping them out, " and I am so 
 glad, my dears." 
 
 The yomiger, with a very fairy-like face, and 
 an eager, restless manner, who was small, bright, 
 and black-eyed, now broke in without preface : 
 '' And I am so glad I But, 0, uncle Diamond, 
 such a dreadful thing has happened to us ; we 
 don't know what to do." 
 
 " God bless me," said the captain, starting 
 back, "what is it?" 
 
 " We have lost every thing. I could sit down 
 and cry; and after all our miseries and misfor- 
 tunes to have this ! And we don't know what 
 to do, micle." 
 
 " Never mind, my dear," said he, with- 
 out knowing what they meant, " we'll get it 
 again. It will all come right again in the 
 morning." 
 
 " It is a great misfortune for poor little Alice. 
 We were getting some tea in the refreshment- 
 room," said the elder, quickly, " and she laid 
 down our bag, and forgot it." 
 
 " The train went off so suddenly," the other 
 said, " and they hurried us on. But what are 
 we to do? for it had all our money in the world, 
 and darhng mamma's picture and her letters, 0, 
 uncle Diamond, uncle Diamond !" And the little 
 girl^ wrung her hands bitterly. 
 
 VOL. J. Q
 
 226 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Uncle Diamond soothed her tenderly. It 
 would all come right, he said, depend on it. 
 What was the station — ^what was the place ? There 
 was really a most intelligent fellow here among 
 the porters, and suppose they consulted him — 
 
 '^ There is a chance," said the elder, '^ you 
 know there is. The gentleman — " 
 
 " Yes, uncle," said the younger, ^^ a gentle- 
 man that was with us bravely jumped out when 
 the train was moving, and, I fear, has hurt him- 
 self dreadfully." 
 
 " He'll look after it, depend on it," said the 
 captain, with affected cheerfulness and confidence. 
 " To be sure he will ! He's sure not to be hurt. 
 Here's our sagacious friend, he'll tell us what 
 to do." 
 
 The sagacious friend at first seemed to doubt 
 the truth of the story, for he said it was "teeto- 
 tally agin the laws of the company that any one 
 should leap out when the train was in motion." 
 When they persisted in their statement, he seemed 
 to think it a bad case morally, and it weakened 
 his view as to the possibility of recovering the lost 
 bag. P'raps he had got the bag, and more likely, 
 p'raps he hadn't. Whether he had or hadn't, 
 the authorities wouldn't let him go — most likely. 
 When Captain Diamond proposed telegraphing to 
 the station, he said it [was no use, as he had come
 
 " THE captain's" NIECES. 227 
 
 on — most likely. At last, however, he advised 
 coming back in about an hour and a half, when 
 the next train was due, and in all probability 
 he would come by that — supposing ^^he was 
 let.*' 
 
 They determined to wait there. The elder, 
 dismissing the bag from her thoughts, talked 
 calmly with her uncle about their affairs, and 
 her journey, and other things. But the younger, 
 excited, restless, eager, kej)t running to the wait- 
 ing-room door, and looking out wistfully until the 
 time had passed. 
 
 Once more the cloud of officials emerged, doors 
 were shut loudly, men and women gathered at the 
 edge and looked out anxiously as for some one 
 to take them off, signals began to toss their arms 
 violently, and a distant bell to sound. There came 
 in a St. Alans train, which, as before, opened its 
 sides, and broke into life with all the quickness 
 of a pantomime trick. 
 
 The two girls stood, each leaning on an arm 
 of their uncle. Both faces were full of anxiety; 
 but the younger leant forward, fluttering as if she 
 were going to fly, and searching every face she 
 met. Captain Diamond had first thought of ap- 
 plying the skilful advice of the porter to the 
 present case, but broke down in a moment, be- 
 wildered by the crowd of faces. But the two
 
 228 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 sisters were at work. Suddenly tlie younger 
 broke from her uncle's arm, and called out, 
 
 '' There, there he is ! I see him. 0, uncle, 
 uncle, look !" 
 
 "And see," said the other, calmly, "he has 
 got our bag all safe. I can see it in his hand." 
 
 "And 0, sister," said the younger girl, "he 
 is safe. He looks quite safe. 0, it would have 
 been dreadful had he been hurt." ^ 
 
 " Where, where, dears," said the captain, now 
 quite bewildered, and looking a little wildly at 
 everybody. " Egad, I can see nothing. Though, 
 to be sure, I don't know him yet." 
 
 " 0, and you will thank him," said the 
 younger. " Won't you, uncle ? Here he is." 
 
 " Why, Heaven preserve us, it's Tillotson ! — 
 or is it ?" said he, as that gentleman came up. 
 " Ay ! ay ! My dear friend Tillotson, is this 
 you ? Ah, yes ! I know him, dears. You are 
 not hurt, are you, my dear fellow ?" 
 
 " Here is the bag," said Mr. Tillotson. " It 
 had a very narrow escape. Some one was walk- 
 ing away with it just as I entered." 
 
 "How shall we ever thank you?" the young 
 girl said, earnestly and with sparlding eyes. 
 " And 1 you were in such dreadful danger, too." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Tillotson, gravely. " I am 
 afraid it was rather a mad act. Had it been
 
 229 
 
 you, or your friend, or a fellow-creature, there 
 would have been some excuse. As it is, I perhaps 
 deserve to lose my life for such a trick." 
 
 The young girl seemed hurt and awed by 
 this speech, and shrank away to her uncle's arm. 
 
 " So," he went on, " Captain Diamond, you 
 know these ladies?" 
 
 " Know them !" said the captain, smiling, 
 " Egad I do, well. They are my new nieces, just 
 come to me from France, and who are to do me 
 the honour of staying with me. I am going to 
 give up being a solitary good-for-nothing bachelor 
 in sceculorumj sir. But, now, wasn't it the oddest 
 thing in the world that you should come across 
 them, and that we three should come to know 
 each other in this sort of way ? I really can 
 hardly make it out." 
 
 " 0, uncle, and if you knew how kind this 
 gentleman has been, how he risked his safety to 
 help us," said the young girl, with a wonderful 
 fervour and a half - shy air, and addressing 
 this speech, not to her uncle, but to Mr. Til- 
 lotson. 
 
 But he had become abstracted. ^^ As I said 
 before, you make too much of it. It is a mere 
 trifle." 
 
 "So is every thing good that you do a 
 mere trifle, Tillotson," said Captain Diamond,
 
 230 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 eagerly. ^' If lie gives fi hundred pounds to a 
 charity, it is a trifle. If he does some other fine 
 thing, that is a trifle also. We don't think them 
 trifles, I can tell you, Tillotson." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson was looking up and down wearily. 
 Tliese compliments were tiring him. ^^ I must 
 go and look after my things," he said. "I am 
 glad to have been of some use to somebody. 
 But I hope you won't think of it any more." 
 He bowed to the ladies, and went away. 
 
 The young girl looked after him wistfully, and 
 with mortification in her face. '^ He won't let us 
 thank him even, uncle," she said, despondingly. 
 " How odd of him ! One would think we had 
 oftended him." 
 
 " That is only his way, my dear," said the 
 captain, earnestly. ^^ He is the most noble, ge- 
 nerous amiable fellow. I am so glad he is come 
 back. And you must help me to shake him up, 
 dears, for his life is very gloomy. You don't know 
 all he has gone through. Some of these evenings, 
 when we are all sitting by the fire, and you, 
 dears, have nothing better to do than to listen to 
 me, I'll tell you about him. Now shall we get 
 a cab?" 
 
 '' 0, then he has a history," said the younger 
 girl, eagerly. 
 
 '^ Poor, poor fellow !" said Captain Dia-
 
 THE " captain' nieces." 231 
 
 mond, with deep feeling. '' But come, we have 
 had no time to talk to each other. Let me 
 look at you, dears. I am so glad to have you 
 with me ; I am, indeed. And now you won't 
 mind waiting here while I go and get the lug- 
 gage?" 
 
 And Captain Diamond, putting them in a safe 
 place under the clock and out of the crowd, 
 limped away towards the luggage van, looking 
 back now and again to encom^age them.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 MR. TILLOTSON " GOES HOME." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson had left tlie White Hart very 
 early. It was a gloomy shivering morning, and 
 as an ancient country fly drove him up to the 
 station, he saw the great cathedral looking uncom- 
 fortably through a bluish atmosphere. He went 
 his way out of that town more hopeless and cheer- 
 less than he had entered it. 
 
 He had a lonely carriage — one all to himself — 
 from whose window he could see all the objects 
 of the country : the raw stone houses, the cold 
 bridges, the stray brick house standing by itself 
 (emblem of his own condition), sweeping by, all 
 wrapped in the same blue uncomfortable morning 
 tone. He looked back, and he saw the same tone 
 upon his whole life ; he looked forward, and it 
 was there before him also. He might have been 
 in a penitential cell, and could not have been 
 more dull and hopeless. 
 
 Gradually the day began to brighten. They 
 passed many towns and stations. At a great
 
 GOES HOME." 233 
 
 junction they stopped, and lie got out, and lie felt 
 so dismal and so disinclined to his own company, 
 that he thought he would walk about, and go on 
 by another train. He walked about the place 
 listlessly, scarcely saw any thing beyond the signs 
 and labels of shops, and came back in time for a 
 later train. The later train took up people who 
 had come on from the Continent. He found it 
 full of travellers, with the marks of the rough 
 usage of the steam-packet upon them, with more 
 of wrappings and packages than there was of the 
 traveller, and very different from the fresh, 
 smooth, well-brushed company who came in and 
 got out all along the road. These seemed to be 
 invalids fresh out of an hospital. 
 
 In this crowded train Mr. Tillotson had been 
 " put" where there were some ordinary travellers, 
 and where there were two tired ladies, with 
 wraps and packages and a weary jaded air, 
 which showed that they also had come from the 
 sea. One was young, black-haired, and bright- 
 eyed; those eyes were brighter yesterday, and 
 would be as bright on the morrow. The other w^as 
 elderly, cold cheeked, sharp ' faced, and about 
 eight-and-thirty. To-morrow or yesterday would 
 not make much difference in her looks. Mr, 
 Tillotson sat opposite the younger black-haired 
 girl, saw that she was restless and talkative, and
 
 234 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 carried a bag carefully on her knee. When she 
 was not talking, she had her eyes very often fixed 
 upon him. 
 
 They were tired with their voyage, and talked 
 of its troubles ; at least the elder, who was always 
 tired and worn, seemed to have some extra lines 
 and shades of fatigue on her face. She spoke 
 very little; the other, with a curious eagerness 
 and vivacity. Mr. Tillotson, after a few moments 
 or so, had dropped them out of his view, and was 
 soon in as perfect solitude as when he was alone 
 in the carriage. 
 
 The younger girl was always wondering and 
 supposing whether some event would happen, or 
 where they were going — a kind of wonder that 
 was put half in the shape of a question, and al- 
 ways with an inquiring look at the calm dreamy 
 unconscious face that was opposite to her. 
 
 He was soon awoke into life by a voice 
 saying, "Perhaps this gentleman would tell us?" 
 He started. It was only some common question 
 about the time of arrival. He had a kind of half 
 sad voice, which had got this key from the habi- 
 tual tone of his mind, and the younger girl lis- 
 tened with deep attention while he told them the 
 little he knew. He then relapsed. But she was 
 restless again very soon, and had another ques- 
 tion; and on the question followed a little nar-
 
 MR. TILLOTSON " GOES HOME." 235 
 
 rative of a couple of sentences long. ^*We liave 
 lived a good deal abroad, and are coming home 
 now ; so we are very ignorant of every thing. It 
 seems much drearier," she went on, looking out of 
 the window. " There seems no sun here." 
 
 "Wliy do you return?" he said. "I have 
 been abroad also, and could fancy being very 
 happy there. You should have stayed where the 
 sun is brightest. We should all keep in it while 
 we can." 
 
 The two women were silent for a moment. 
 The younger sighed ; then the other spoke. " We 
 are obliged, unfortunately, to return. Our last 
 friend died six months ago at Dieppe." 
 
 Then ]\ir. Tillotson, for the first time, saw 
 that they were in mourning. He looked on them 
 both with deep interest and compassion. The 
 younger girl read these feelings in his face, which 
 seemed to warm up. " I am very inconsiderate," 
 he said. "I did not mean to put such foolish 
 questions. But the fact is, I live out of the world 
 as much as if I were in one of the little French 
 towns." 
 
 He was not at all disinclined to talk now, for 
 he felt drawn towards these two women whose 
 situation was like his own. There was a frank- 
 ness and freedom, almost childish, about the 
 younger, which was really pleasing, and she told
 
 236 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOK. 
 
 about their affairs and misfortunes with a confi- 
 dence that was often wisdom. The elder was her 
 half-sister. They were going to stay with an uncle 
 whom they had not seen for years. There was 
 a generous sympathy, and an imitation to confi- 
 dence, in ]Vir. Tillotson's manner. Gradually 
 other passengers dropped out, and the three were 
 left in the carriage. They fell on their Dieppe 
 life, and how happy they had been at that 
 town, then not spoiled by fashion and exorbitant 
 prices — it was the bright black-eyed girl who was 
 narrating their little history — but she could not get 
 further. Her eyes filled up suddenly, and, biting 
 her lips, she looked at the trees and houses flying 
 past the window. They were stopping. It was 
 another junction, and she jumped up hastily. 
 " Come," she said to her sister, " let us get some 
 tea." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson, though young enough, had lost 
 the enthusiasm that would have made him fly 
 from the carriage and return with a cup in each 
 hand. He let the two ladies pass from the car- 
 riage, and remained behind, still thinking of many 
 things. He might have been sitting before a 
 cold grate, looking hopelessly into the sunk-down 
 ashes. 
 
 When the bell rang, they came back hur- 
 riedly.
 
 MR. TILLOTSON "goes HOME." 237 
 
 The tea, as was usual witli such tea, was hot 
 and thin, and unHke known tea. They settled 
 themselves in their places, and the bright-eyed 
 girl was about describing pleasantly what had 
 been given her to drink, when, with the first jerk 
 of the moving train, she gave a cry, and clasped 
 her hand. " The bag !" she cried. " I have 
 left it in the refreshment-room — all our money — 
 every thing !" 
 
 She started up and ran to the window. Mr. 
 Tillotson, suddenly aroused from a dream of St. 
 Alans, was saying calmly that it was sure to be 
 found, when she called out, "And our mother's 
 picture, and all her letters ! What shall I do ?" 
 
 He rose hastily from his seat, opened the door 
 in a second, and, though the train was beginning 
 to move a little fast, had jumped upon the plat- 
 form. But there was an iron pillar, one of a long 
 series that kept up the roof, and against this he 
 was swung, and the two sisters, who with clasped 
 hands had rushed to the open door, saw him stag- 
 ger back as if he had been struck by some terrible 
 blow. That was the last view they had of him ; 
 and this was the little story they told the captain. 
 
 They were never w^eary of repeating their 
 thanks, at least the youngest, the captain saying 
 that " it was really, now, as gallant a thing as he 
 had ever heard of. Just fancy, my dears," he
 
 238 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 went on, " if you liad Tom tliere, with his old leg 
 in the way. And I am so glad, Tillotson, it w^as 
 you^ now. 'Pon my word I am." 
 
 But Mr. Tillotson was already looking absently 
 about, even wearily. His heart was far away, per- 
 haps. " Don't mention it," he said ; " don't say 
 any more. Indeed, it is nothing. You have made 
 far too much of it. And now," he hesitated, 
 "would you excuse me. I am afraid I must 
 go now. I am very glad you recovered your 
 bag." 
 
 At this moment their maid, a tall, gaunt, 
 rudely-made, masculine woman, came up, and said 
 that all their " things were in." The captain saw 
 the eyes of the young girl wistfully following the 
 retreating figure of Mr. Tillotson. Something 
 struck him, and he limped hastily after him. " My 
 dear fellow," he said, " I beg your pardon. Now, 
 where are you going? To the chambers?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Tillotson, smiling sadly, "to 
 the old den." 
 
 " You won't be settled down there till to-mor- 
 row," said the other ; " and I tell you what, now, 
 come and dine with us. As good a duck,. Til- 
 lotson, as ever was killed, and a little haddock. 
 Do, ''my dear fellow. It'll be a charity to help an 
 old fellow to amuse those two nice girls — " 
 
 " Some other day, some other time," said Mr.
 
 MR. TILLOTSON " GOES HOME." 239 
 
 Tillotsorij -wringing his hand, ^^ou are too good 
 to me. But another time." 
 
 " Ah ! this is always the way. You are such a 
 stand-ofF man. Well, the next day. Give us 
 one day — the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " I will, then, my dear captain," said he ; and 
 at last got away. He got into his cab, and in a 
 few moments it became for him a cell as gloomy as 
 the carriage had been. The darkness was now 
 setting in, and with the departure of bright day, 
 yet gloomier thoughts, which had kept themselves 
 in reserve, began to rush on him. Then the cab 
 stopped at some old-fashioned chambers, in an old- 
 fashioned run-to-seed square. The old chambers 
 were handsome enough, having been once a noble- 
 man's house, and had a "grand stair" that was 
 magnificent. But they were not let, and were even 
 going out of fashion — as unfashionable quiet cham- 
 bers. The air of that great hall and stair seemed 
 charged with ghosts of spectral noble men and 
 noble women, who had attended routs and parties, 
 and crowded up in George the Second's day. 
 
 A porter, who sat in a black-hooded chair, put 
 on an affectation of decent joy at his return, and 
 went before him up the white stone staircase. 
 That was an ascent of time, and he had to shade 
 the light from the grand draughts which floated 
 up and down. It was a lonely passage ; they did
 
 240 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 not meet a soul. Thus wliat had been the noble 
 lady's boudoir was reached, where a fire was in- 
 deed burning, but smoking, and having a cold air ; 
 and then the porter went down to wait upon other 
 gentlemen, and, closing the door, left Mr. Tillot- 
 son to the company of cold shadows and ghosts for 
 the night. 
 
 1
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MORE ABOUT " THE CAPTAIN." 
 
 Captain Diamond had genteel lodgings in Wim- 
 pole Street, where he had lived many years, and 
 where he was regarded with a mixture of respect 
 and affection by all who were concerned in the 
 establishment. By the landlady who took his 
 monthly rent ; by the maid-servant who brought 
 up his breakfast — ^he dined always at his club — 
 whom he remembered sumptuously at the pecu- 
 niary festivals ; and by the occasional lodger whom 
 he met on the stairs, and who was coming down 
 from cheaper regions, very much upstairs. The 
 inquirer below was told that " the captain" was in, 
 or would be in by and by ; it was for " the captain" 
 that breakfast went up, and for "the captain" 
 that the servant ran out in her cap round the 
 corner. For by this name he was affectionately 
 known, though, in truth, he was only a lieutenant, 
 but a lieutenant in the enjoyment of full pay, 
 having quitted the army forty years before. That 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 transaction was, in truth, something of " a job," and 
 would not bear a moment's inquiry now. But at 
 that time, the captain's sweet temper and plain 
 goodness had made for him many fast friends in 
 his owai profession; among others. Sir Thomas 
 Cameron, then Colonel Cameron, who afterwards 
 got to the Horse Guards, and got Tom Diamond 
 into the " Royal Veteran Battalion," with full pay, 
 without a second's hesitation. He was himself 
 very merry on the score of this corps, whom he 
 called " the Fogies." 
 
 Often and often he met old brother-officers 
 of this type, who greeted him with delight 
 and affection unusual among men, and who 
 pressed him obstreperously to dine with them 
 and stay with them. And if he ever wanted 
 money he had no lack of friends to look to. 
 
 The fiction of the captaincy, which was so 
 scrupulously supported by those below him, always 
 gave him a little pain. "I have no right to it," 
 he said very earnestly and simply. " And they 
 may well laugh at me ; but what can I do ? It 
 is so hard to explain, and to be explaining it every 
 time. And they do it out of good-nature, you 
 know." His friends were very earnest on this 
 point, and held to this dignity as if it were a point 
 of faith. But he never would adopt it on his 
 card, or endorse the little deceit in his own
 
 MORE ABOUT " THE CAPTAIN." 243 
 
 writing, but was always plain "Mr. Thomas 
 Diamond." 
 
 Besides being the friend of Colonel Cameron — 
 afterwards Sir Thomas, K.C.B. — he had known 
 plenty of dashing officers of the Prince Regent's 
 era — such as Colonel Lascelles, Captain King — 
 afterwards General King, and governor of islands 
 — Trevylian, and many more. The captain had 
 a surprising delicacy and unselfish sensitiveness; 
 and though often led on to talk pleasantly of 
 his exploits with those officers, beginning with 
 evident pleasure, yet would check himself timo- 
 rously, as if lie were w^earying his hearers 
 with his " old stories." And though they were 
 indeed entertaining, and full of colour and 
 character, he could only be got to go on, under 
 protest, as it were, and with a struggle between 
 two feelings — that of fearing to disoblige or of 
 tiring — which was almost amusing. There was a 
 family or two with whom he was distantly con- 
 nected, and where there were children, and by 
 them his coming was always looked for as a holi- 
 day, and on the day of the visit videttes, posted at 
 the window, looked out anxiously towards six 
 o'clock for the half-stooping figure that came limp- 
 ing up so quietly yet so steadily to the door, and 
 with a cry and a united scamper, gave notice that 
 the captain was at hand. By elders of this family
 
 244 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 he was sometimes called "Tom," and by the 
 younger ones he was sometimes, with glowing 
 cheeks and a blush of shame and humiliation, 
 taken in confidence with reference to sudden 
 pecuniary embarrassments. On such occasions 
 the nobility and the delicacy of the captain's beha- 
 viour excited a tumult of delight — a delight that 
 could not find words. For the captain had an 
 old crimson silk purse, made for him out of an 
 officer's sash by a lady years ago, which came out, 
 and in which his thin pale fingers explored. 
 Gratitude was on his face at the kind confidence 
 that had been reposed. 
 
 " Now, my dear fellow," he would say, diving 
 into the narrow opening of the long crimson purse, 
 " this is what I like. This is really what I am 
 proud of! Now mind, if you do not alioays come 
 to me in this way, you and I are two." 
 
 But the real time of jubilee was when "Tom," 
 coming back from the country with a small modest 
 old black portmanteau, would be induced to stay a 
 night or two with one of these families. For he 
 always gave leave to his landlady, who, he said, 
 was a " poor struggling creature," to let his rooms 
 in his absence, and sometimes his return would 
 come about awkwardly, in the very middle of such 
 a lodger's tenure, so that he would feel himself 
 bound to go to an hotel for a night or two, or to
 
 MORE ABOUT " THE CAPTAIN." 245 
 
 accept the hospitality of these friends as described. 
 They would sometimes remonstrate with him a 
 little warmly on this weakness, saying, " If I were 
 you I wouldn't do it. It's perfect folly of you ! I 
 think you are far too good, uncle Tom. I wouldn't 
 put myself out in that way, or let myself be made 
 a hand of in that way, and by a woman of that 
 sort." To which uncle Tom would, with a little 
 confusion, plead his old excuse, " Ah, the crea- 
 ture ! she has to struggle so to make up her 
 little rent and taxes. My dear, it's no trouble in 
 the world to me. I rather like going to the 
 hotel." 
 
 "Turning you out of your own room!" the 
 lady would go on, warmly, " your oiun room, far 
 which you have paid!" 
 
 "Ah, the creature," uncle Tom would say again. 
 " A fellow that was in the front parlour went off 
 three weeks ago, and owing her a month's rent, 
 which she was counting on to pay her taxes, the 
 creature ! I assure you she was crying for an 
 hour in the room, telling it to me." 
 
 " And of course you paid them for her ? " said 
 the indignant lady. " I am ashamed of you. You 
 are like a child about your money. It should be 
 taken from you, and kept for you." 
 
 " No, no, upon my word, no," said the captain 
 very eagerly. "No, no. I am not that sort of
 
 246 THE SECOND MKS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 man. I would not do that for lier. Ton my 
 word, no." 
 
 But there was a belief that amounted to cer- 
 tainty in the minds of all there that he had paid 
 the crying landlady's taxes; as indeed he had. 
 And with this he was not in the least soft or 
 foolish. Among these stories, which he was re- 
 luctant to relate, were several associated with the 
 shape of " Satisfaction " then in fashion among 
 gentlemen, in one of which he himself had been 
 principal, and out of which he had come, as the 
 phrase went, " with fljHing colours." But in many 
 more he had assisted as "friend" with great 
 "pluck" and tact, and either pushed the affair to 
 extremities, or arranged it happily, as the occa- 
 sion required. Some of these which bore a little 
 against himself — as in the instance of the con- 
 stable's coming up and arresting him, to his asto- 
 nishment, as he stepped out of the coach, with a 
 shining mahogany case mider his arm — he told 
 with much humour and happy simplicity. 
 
 The children, however, would always look upon 
 him as a Great Commander, and for a long time 
 associated the lameness with a mysterious wound 
 received in battle. Their eager and earnest ques- 
 tions on this subject he often turned off mth a 
 smile, but though often pressed for details of 
 the action, could never be induced to enter upon
 
 247 
 
 it. The parents' eyes were always on hinij and 
 through that wonderful delicacy with which he 
 was leavened through and through, he felt that in 
 some way their dignity and pleasure required that 
 the little legend should be kept up. And so it 
 waSj until one of the boys, growing up, asked him 
 in a sort of confidential way, as between man 
 and man, and then it came out that "Tom" had 
 got his injury leaping across a ditch with his 
 gun, when he had put his hip " out." In truth, 
 he was always in gentle protest against these 
 military "honours" which his friends would affec- 
 tionately press on him for his reputation with the 
 public. 
 
 It was quite natural, therefore, when h^ 
 heard of his relation dying at Dieppe, and leav- 
 ing these two girls, that he should think of 
 hurrying over to help them. But he got ill 
 suddenly, and was shut up in his room for 
 weeks, during which time the maid and land- 
 lady attended on the captain anxiously, and an 
 old military doctor — Gilpin of the — th — came, 
 and went as he came, sturdily refusing fees. 
 During this season the patient suffered deep 
 distress of mind, apologising often for all the 
 trouble he was giving. But he was strong, and 
 very soon was "on his legs" again. Then he 
 wrote to the two orphan girls, insisting that
 
 248 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 they should come to him — for a time at least; 
 that it would be a real favour; that they would 
 oblige him and cheer up an old man by their 
 society; until these girls — what with their grief 
 scarcely yet abated, and not allowing them to think 
 much over any thing — began actually to believe 
 this uncle of theirs, whom they had never yet 
 seen, was a poor lonely cast-off man, actually 
 pining for human company. He made all pre- 
 parations with the delicacy of a woman, tran- 
 sacted matters with his landlady for increased 
 accommodation, and even made out a little maid 
 to look after their dresses and dressing. No 
 one was so thoughtful, clever, skilful, and suc- 
 cessful in managing, as "the captain." 
 
 He kissed them as he got them home. "' I 
 am so glad to have you both. And so this is the 
 Kttle heiress?" 
 
 Her bright eyes were shooting about restlessly, 
 and she laughed with great enjoyment. As soon 
 as she had turned away again — for a new object 
 attracted her every moment — the other drew Cap- 
 tain Diamond aside, and whispered hurriedly : 
 
 "Don't say any thing, dear uncle, about the 
 property to her, I'll tell you afterwards." 
 
 The captain, with a wise and almost knowing 
 expression, squeezed her arm. " I forgot ! , Leave 
 it to me," he said.
 
 MORE ABOUT " THE CAPTAIN." 249 
 
 The captain had arranged every thing at his 
 lodgings for the two ladies. The accommodation 
 was hajDpily of that expansive kind which would 
 fit any number of guests; and in counsel with 
 his landlady, and all the time fingering his sash 
 purse nervously, he had entered into a treaty 
 for her best rooms. Though the chano;e was 
 profitable to herself, she did not regard it with 
 much favour, and upbraided him a little im- 
 patiently. As if, she said, he had not enough 
 to do to take care of himself! Ladies — rela- 
 tions or no relations — were quite fit to look 
 after themselves. That was her idea. 
 
 The captain was getting alarmed. It w^ould 
 be fatal if the landlady had prejudices against 
 his charges. "My dear Mrs. Wilcox," he said, 
 "you don't know what trouble they are in. I 
 don't think they have a friend now on the face 
 of the earth that they can ask to do a hand's 
 turn for them but myself, Mrs. Wilcox! And 
 only think, they have a lawsuit with it all, which 
 has gone against them so far. So we must be 
 very tender with them, you see." 
 
 He had been busy, therefore, for some days 
 before their coming, arranging things, trying to 
 set out the drawing-room, so as to have less of 
 an old bachelor air, and getting in a handsome 
 supply of all manner of stores. A little queer
 
 250 THE SECOND MES. TILLOTSON. 
 
 quaint old garde de ^dn, the gift of Sir Thomas 
 — then Colonel — Cameron, and which lay under 
 the sideboard, had been replenished. This Httle 
 piece of furniture, it once occurred to the cap- 
 tain, had "legs" infinitely too long, and, fetch- 
 ing out his tools, at which he was very fairly 
 skilful, he had devoted a whole day to laborious 
 shortening of these limbs, and produced a monu- 
 ment of amateur carpentry. 
 
 Both the ladies who had come to him called 
 him uncle, though only the eldest Miss Diamond 
 was his niece proper. The younger, Alice, was 
 only the daughter of a nephew. Miss Diamond 
 w^as rather tall, a little gaunt and thin, with a 
 staid cold manner, and a practical turn of mind. 
 She spoke very little, and was always steadily 
 engaged on some work of solid and arduous 
 character, from which she often looked up to 
 let her cold eyes settle on a speaker, and see 
 whether he seriously meant more than he said. 
 It was only when they returned to the young 
 girl that a tinge of softness and warmth came 
 into them, and she tried to modulate the rich 
 harsh key of her voice. 
 
 Alice was about two-and-twenty, but looked 
 seventeen, for she had an almost childish face 
 and figure. The face was pale, so oval, that, 
 w^hen years came on, it would surely grow sharp
 
 THE CAPTAIN." 251 
 
 and pointed. She had a tiny waist, and "no 
 chest''^ to speak of. Elderly maidens said that she 
 had a "flighty" manner, and had been badly 
 brought up. She had indeed a restless way of 
 speaking, and a pretty volubility and freedom 
 of comment not pleasant to " well-brought-up " 
 elderly persons. She was very fond of gold and 
 silver trinkets, and of decking herself out with 
 laces and such things : the whole of which was to 
 be laid to the account of her being spoiled by 
 her friends calling her "the little heiress;" it 
 being known for several years that she was to 
 succeed to the great Davis property — a succes- 
 sion now, alas ! very doubtful.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NEAV MENAGE. 
 
 When he had thus got them home he was de- 
 hghted. Bj that time they discovered what a 
 soft and gentle nature his was. The elder girl, 
 or woman, was of a calm business-like temper, 
 and fell into the "ways" of the house within an 
 hour. 
 
 Alice went about at first in a sort of little 
 enthusiasm. She hurried from this room into 
 that, and praised every thing eagerly. But pre- 
 sently the enthusiasm abated, and she was sitting 
 on a chair silent, and with her eyes roaming ab- 
 sently. The captain was restless himself. He 
 limped about the room, settling this thing and that, 
 stopping before them every now and then to say : 
 
 " Now I hope, dears, you will make your- 
 selves comfortable, and do what you like. And 
 as for the rhino" — this was a familiar word of 
 his, and he held up the crimson purse — " we won't 
 spare him. When this is run out, we know 
 where to look for more, — and more to the back 
 of that." 
 
 " You are so good and kind, uncle," said Anne,
 
 253 
 
 quietly. The other went over and kissed him, 
 then sat down again. 
 
 "You know," said he, wistfully, "I am so 
 ignorant of all this. An old bachelor, living by 
 himself so long, gets rusty. It will be a real 
 kindness, dears, if you will take all this off my 
 shoulders." And he held up the crimson purse. 
 "I don't know prices, and they will impose on 
 me. Will you promise me, dears, and help an 
 old fellow?" 
 
 Yet for one who was so dull and helpless in 
 housekeeping matters, he had ordered a surprising 
 little dinner. Uncle Tom had been in Paris 
 shortly after the peace time, and had often supped 
 at houses of great repute with his friend (then") 
 Colonel Cameron. Some of his best stories were 
 founded on his adventures in that country, where, 
 indeed, though blundering sadly, he had won the 
 respect of the natives. They said he was bon en- 
 fant after all. 
 
 At this little inauguration dinner, too, we may 
 be sure there was the most inspiring wine to give 
 a sparkle to their meeting. The elder girl told 
 him about their Dieppe life ; and when the dinner 
 was gone, and they were at the fire again, told 
 him, to his deep sympathy, about the later and 
 more distressful passage in that Dieppe life, which 
 he accompanied with many an " Indeed I know !
 
 254 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 O yes! My poor children!" using his amber 
 Indian handkerchief very often. The younger 
 girl sat with her knee held within her clasped 
 hands, listening mournfully, but she added no 
 details to the narrative. 
 
 " Ah ! you poor things, all alone there," said 
 uncle Tom, poldng the fire violently. "Why 
 didn't you write to me ? I had only to get into 
 the train, and then the packet. I'm the best 
 sailor in the world. But those doctors kept me. 
 I'd like to have seen old Dieppe again. What a 
 gay place it used to be. And the Eaterbleese- 
 mong? We stayed a night there, I and Colonel 
 Cameron, and bought some of their ivory-work 
 — along the Port — to bring home. The colonel and 
 I were walking along the pier, wdien an old fisher- 
 man, or fisherwoman, egad, we couldn't tell which, 
 they dressed so alike — But I always loill get into 
 my old stories. But, my dear girls, you must 
 keep up. Every one, they tell us, has their little 
 peck of trouble. Look at poor Tillotson, that got 
 you your bag — " 
 
 Now a little colour came into Alice's face. 
 The hands were unclasped, and the knee fell. 
 "And what dreadful thing has he suffered, 
 uncle ?" she asked. 
 
 "O, a long business, dear — as long as one 
 of my old stories. I know all about it. And I
 
 " THE captain's" NEW MENAGE. 255 
 
 believe it is a sort of secret — a secret that every 
 body knows — but I suppose I may tell you, dears ; 
 they won't hang me for it." 
 
 "He has it in his face," said the young girl, 
 eagerly. " I was sure there was a mystery there." 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said the captain, reflectively; 
 "I know the whole thing. His uncle. Colonel 
 Tillotson, was in a regiment with me at the time, 
 and w^as dreadfully distressed about it. And he 
 changed for foreign service soon after, and I don't 
 think ever quite got over it. Dear me !" 
 
 " And what was it, uncle ? " pressed the young 
 girl. " Won't you tell us ? " 
 
 " Well, it was this : Henry Tillotson was a 
 wild, foolish young fellow. We were all that, I'm 
 afraid, in our day ; it used to be the fashion, you 
 know. But every one was talking of him, and I 
 am afraid, dears, he was any thing but what you 
 call respectable. His mother was a quiet, gentle 
 creature, and tried all she could with him ; and his 
 father threatened him, even. Colonel Tillotson, 
 then captain, often spoke to me about it, and I had 
 eveiy stage of the business. The mother, poor 
 thing, I saw was fretting herself to death about it. 
 But my lad went on from bad' to worse. Now, 
 would you ever think it of that gentle-looking 
 fellow?" 
 
 " Scarcely," the eldest answered, firmly.
 
 256 THE SECOND MllS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Alice did not reply, but eagerly waited for more. 
 
 " It's a queer world, you know, dears. O ! it 
 was very unfortunate altogether," uncle Dia- 
 mond went on, sadly. " And yet I believe no- 
 body was so much in fault, after all. After 
 one of the break-outs, worse than usual, there 
 was a scene, and his father regularly turned him 
 out; went further, I think, than he ought to 
 have done. The poor woman fell down half dead, 
 and her son ran to her, distracted; but Tillotson 
 — the father, I mean — put him out ver}' harshly, 
 I think. The son went away, desperatel}^, to 
 foreign countries. Went on worse there, I am 
 afraid; and at last, in the midst of one of his 
 bouts, heard that his poor mother was dying oflp 
 fast, of a broken heart. He was going to set out 
 all in a hurry, and in a dreadful state, when he 
 himself was caught by a fever. Then, some one 
 there — a consul, I believe, for he hadn't a soul 
 with him — wrote over about his state, saying that 
 
 there was very little hope for him — and then 
 
 and then there was the other business. But 
 these are all dismal old stories, my dears." 
 
 There was a silence for a few moments. The 
 young girl remained in her favom'ite attitude, her 
 hands clasped round her knee, and her eyes fixed 
 devotionally on the teller of the history. 
 
 "You may imagine," he went on, "what a
 
 NEW MENAGE. 257 
 
 sobering that was for him, wlieii he came to him- 
 self. It changed his life — changed his ways — 
 changed his face, even — in a daj. Before it, he 
 was mid, extravagant, and a boy; after it, he 
 came home just what you saw him yesterday. I 
 hardly knew him. Dear, dear, it's a queer world ! 
 He's now like a hermit ; shuts himself up, brood- 
 ing over all his sorrows. What's the use of it? 
 Look at me, now. Here am I, an old fellow, with 
 no business to be thinking of such things, and yet, 
 I confess, I like life, and to see people, and go 
 about. I wish," continued uncle Tom, " we could 
 persuade him, and bring him round in some way. 
 Poor fellow ! But when he tells you, as he told 
 me a month ago, that he was pining for death, 
 and looldng to it as the happiest moment, I don't 
 know how to take him, or what to say to 
 him." 
 
 " Pining for death ! " said the young girl, 
 sadly. " O, how dreadful I Surely something 
 could be done, ought to be done, at once." 
 
 " That's what I say, dear ; only I'm not up to 
 that sort of thing. Between ourselves, dear, I be- 
 lieve I only make the thing worse. It requires a 
 light touch." 
 
 They were tired with their journey, and pre- 
 sently went to bed. 
 
 For a long time after, the captain sat at his 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSOK. 
 
 fire, smiling pleasantly in great good - humour, 
 smoking his clay pipe, and addressing a chasm in 
 the live coals with a sympathising "The creatures I 
 the creatiu'es!"
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 A NEW INTEKEST. 
 
 Before breakfast the next morning lie was down 
 and busy, limping about from tlie fire to the table, 
 deep in hot rolls, and hot muffins, and toast, and 
 various fried things that were simmering before 
 the fire. In the morning the captain was always 
 particularly bright and almost glittering, being 
 surprisingly smoothly shaved, and his whiskers 
 oiled and curled to glossiness — an operation which 
 he performed with a small French iron, purchased 
 in Paris during that visit after the peace. For 
 "the captain" took care of every thing he had, 
 and kept it to a surprising age. He shaved him- 
 self with wonderful smoothness, and took great 
 pride in his razors, the sharpening and stropping 
 of which instruments, for friends, was a favourite 
 pastime of his during the long evenings. He 
 always wore a high black satin stock which 
 buckled behind, and out of which rose his sharply 
 pointed collars — every thing about his throat being 
 braced up with military stiffness. About these
 
 260 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 little points — namely, about "the captain's" col- 
 lars, and " the captain's " razors, and such 
 matters, the servants were jealously and mys- 
 teriously careful, and even took pride ; though, 
 indeed, it was not likely that the good and gentle 
 soul would be angered by any neglect in such 
 matters. 
 
 This morning, then, the captain was down 
 early, busy with the cares of preparing a break- 
 fast, that for quantity would have sufficed for a 
 party of tired and hungry troopers ; for he was of 
 that old school that deems lavish hospitality to be 
 the highest and most perfect expression of love, 
 friendship, kindliness, and the heartiest good will. 
 His niece, however, was with him in a moment. 
 
 "You recollect," she said, "dear uncle, what 
 I whispered to you at the railway station, about 
 not mentioning the trial to Alice. Poor child, 
 she does not know of it yet." 
 
 " Not know it ? " He stopped short in his walk. 
 "Well, so best, so best! I see now, though I 
 didn't then, I confess. I thought I might have 
 been putting my old foot in it, as I do sometimes. 
 So you haven't told her? Well, it would only 
 worry the poor thing, after all." 
 
 "That was what we thought. She will know 
 it in full time; though Heaven knows how we 
 are to tell her. Her poor little soul is set upon
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 261 
 
 being an heiress. And O, uncle," she went on, 
 laying down her work, "I have yet worse to tell 
 you about her." 
 
 " Worse ? God bless me !" ejaculated the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 "About three weeks before we came away 
 she began to complain, all of a sudden, of rest- 
 less nights, and that she couldn't lie on her 
 side. Well, we got all the French doctors, and 
 they came and examined her, and one of them, 
 the cleverest man in Dieppe, told me plainly 
 that he thought one of her lungs was ^ touched,' 
 and that we must be very careful of her." 
 
 The captain looked wistfully at his shining 
 copper kettle, now singing merrily on the hob. 
 He did not know what to say for a moment. "Ah, 
 my dear," he said, " those French doctors are all 
 botches, regular botches. My God 1— surely there 
 was poor Hammond, who went up with me in 
 the dilijongs, and who felt some stings about 
 his heart. Boulay, the French doctor, told him 
 he couldn't last a month — not a month. Well, 
 Hammond lived twenty years after that, and was 
 sound as a roach in his heart to the day of his 
 death ; though, to be sure, we might have very 
 well misunderstood the gentleman, for, between 
 you and me, my dear, we couldn't muster half- 
 a-crown's worth of French between us."
 
 262 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 "All, butj uncle, an Englisli doctor says the 
 same." 
 
 "Well," said lie, a little nonplused, "many 
 of iliem, too, are botches enough, God knows. 
 I tell you what, my dear. We'll just take a 
 cab, and go off straight to Doctor Gilpin, as 
 good a man as ever stepped. I know what heW. 
 say. Little Alice touched, my dear! Folly!" 
 
 Thus he dismissed those fears ; he fell very soon 
 with delio-ht into this new life. The two mrls made 
 him their study, made little alterations wdiich they 
 thought would bring him more comfort, little sur- 
 prises which threw "the captain" into almost a 
 distress of gratitude and acknoAvledgment. 
 
 One of those first days he came to the elder 
 girl. "I am going to ask you to help me," he 
 said. "Do you know, I am afraid they make a 
 fool of me in shops and such places. I am sure 
 I give double what I ought to give. Now, my 
 dear child, I want you to help me." 
 
 "Dearest uncle," the elder girl said, "this is 
 kind. I am so glad you have come to me. I 
 was dying to ask you." 
 
 " Then here," said he, pulling out his crimson 
 purse, "would you, then, take charge of this? 
 Lay out whatever is enough for the week, and 
 spare nothing, mind. I like every thing of the 
 very best, and plenty of the best. It's a way
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 263 
 
 I have always had. I'll look after the wines 
 myself]'' nncle Tom added, apologetically. "For 
 I tUnh I know a little about wine. Colonel 
 Cameron and I always went together to the 
 vaults to taste. There, there, you are doing me 
 <a great favour." And he put the crimson silk 
 pm-se into her hands,-- and limped away hastily. 
 
 The younger girl was still silent and quiet. 
 That morning slie asked her uncle would he 
 €ome out and take her for a Avalk. She wanted 
 to see some of the shows of London. Her uncle 
 was thankful and grateful for this honour done 
 to him. He received this lady's orders with the 
 old gallantry of Louis the Fourteenth's day. He 
 went to fetch his finest apparel, and the bishop'§ 
 hat, wdiich lay under a bandanna handkerchief 
 for occasions of state, and the gray thread gloves, 
 which rested on the curl of the bishop's hat. The 
 two sallied out; the bright-looking girl in deep 
 black leaning on the arm of the gouty, fierce, half- 
 military old gentleman, who limped smartly along. 
 
 They saw the shows, and spent a pleasant 
 morning. Uncle Diamond was thinking wist- 
 fully how he could propose a pastrycook and an 
 elaborate meal, for he had that fine old chivahy 
 in him whose creed is that too great honour, in 
 every way, cannot be paid to a lady who honours 
 you A\'ith attention, and he believed in the now
 
 264 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 old-fasliionecl gallant faitli, that ladies, once in 
 the society of gentlemen, were to be altogether 
 ignorant of the existence of money. We now^ 
 it seems, furnish them with a regular reckoning. 
 
 Suddenly the young girl, still leaning on his 
 arm, looked up into his face. "And that poor 
 Mr. Tillotson you were telling us of the other 
 night. How dreadful ! I have hardly got it 
 out of my head. No wonder he cannot bear ta 
 look back." 
 
 "Poor, poor fellow!" said he, in deep com- 
 passion. " I knew you would pity him." 
 
 " I saw it all in his face," she went on, " as 
 we came up in the train. I was sure there was- 
 some horrible mystery." 
 
 "Well now — it was scarcely his fault, after 
 all," said he. "He got into a wild set. There 
 was a dreadful fellow who had got influence over 
 him, and forced him to do as he pleased. Noy 
 no. Poor Harry Tillotson ! He never was bad. 
 I always took his side." 
 
 "I am sure you did, uncle. And now, is it 
 not dreadful to think that he should go on this 
 way so long, and perhaps go on all his life ? How 
 long ago is it ? " 
 
 " O, let me see. November, December, Janu- 
 ary — it must be ten or twelve years ago, now." 
 
 "Wliy, it will settle on his mind," she went
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 265 
 
 on, eagerly. "It will become a mania. People 
 have gone mad before now from dwelling on 
 such things." 
 
 "Very true. Most sensible, dear," said he; 
 "a very just idea. And the worst is, what can 
 we do? I have tried to reason with him, in 
 my simple way, over and over again." 
 
 "But something should be done," she said, 
 excitedly. "His mind should be diverted. He 
 should be talked to — made to go out and see 
 people. I am sure he likes you, uncle, and 
 would do any thing for you. You could talk 
 to him." 
 
 "Ah! you don't know, my dear child. I 
 have tried all that; though now^ indeed, if wp 
 could get him to come up to a little dinner, it 
 would be different. I never thought of that." 
 
 The young girl allowed him to work this 
 conclusion out for himself without interruption. 
 
 " Egad, we'll do that," said he, simply. " You 
 wouldn't mind it % It is really a charity." 
 
 She tm-ned away her head, blushing, and a 
 little ashamed of this half intuitive deception, 
 and said, " O, not in the least." 
 
 " You saw him, you know," he went on, 
 '^coming up in the train. He is a nice fellow 
 — a good fellow. I know you'll like him. If 
 you and Anne there would humour him a little !
 
 266 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 Upon my word I do pity liim, and Avisli from 
 my soul that I could find some way of helping 
 him. You see I am not clever — never had the 
 education. They always told me, ' Tom Diamond, 
 you'll never fire the Thames.' But tliais a very 
 good idea, and I never thought of it before, and 
 I'll go this very da}-." And he went off at once 
 to ask his friend. 
 
 Ml*. Tillotson refused, wearily but gently. 
 But the captain was not chsheartened. "But 
 now," he added, almost imploringly, "would 
 you do something for me? Would you? No, 
 you wouldn't." 
 
 "Indeed I would," said Mr. Tillotson, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 "Dine — see people — that's all. Make a be- 
 ginning with me, now — with Tom. Do^ there's a 
 good fellow. Look at me, now, with those two 
 girls, the creatures ! Upon my word, my heart 
 bleeds for them. I don't know how to enter- 
 tain them and amuse them. And it is very 
 hard on them to be shut up with an old fellow. 
 Come to-morroAv — do." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson took his hand. "The idea of 
 my entertaining ladies ! My dear friend, I would 
 do any thing for you. But don't ask me — I am 
 out of place — not suited for that. I tried it some 
 weeks ago, and it didn't do. I am as well as I am."
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 267 
 
 " Try it again. You must, to oblige poor Tom 
 Diamond. You promised, you know. Come, 
 make it to-morrow for a beginning. One o 
 our little dinners, you know. I'll give you a 
 lobster at ten o'clock, in a despatclier. You 
 know I can do that sort of thing." (And so 
 he could; it was a very j^leasant sight to see the 
 captain with his " despatclier" on the table, limp- 
 ing about the room, bringing his lemon, and 
 cayenne, and his little seasonings from many 
 quarters and corners, and then lighting his spirit- 
 lamp at the proper moment. And, to say the 
 truth — as, indeed. General Cameron and other 
 officers often protested — there was no one who 
 could prepare that delicacy like Tom Diamond.) 
 
 Mr. Tillotson at last gave in, wearily. " I am 
 not very well," he said. ^' Something is coming 
 over me, I don't know what. But I'll come." 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear boy," said the captain, 
 heartily. "I am very much obliged to you, I 
 am indeed. It is truly kind of you to come and 
 sit with an old fellow. And they are nice girls, 
 too. I pity them, the creatures! No father or 
 mother, and so gentle. I am not up to this sort 
 of thing, you see. Good-bye, Tillotson. Thank 
 you." 
 
 When uncle Tom returned home, and in 
 ^eat spirits announced this news as a triumph
 
 268 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 of diplomacy, it was received very calmly by 
 the elder gii-l. But a flush came to the cheeks 
 of the younger. She was happier and more 
 talkative for the rest of the evening. 
 
 On the next night came Mr. Tillotson, still 
 looking ill. But he was making an effort. 
 "Doing too much," said the captain, looking at 
 liim anxiously. "You must take care of your- 
 self. ^ Proper vitum,' thus something goes on in 
 that way, but old Stubbs, our schoolmaster in 
 the country, was always saying it. It means, 
 that it is very foohsli to be losing one's life 
 entirely for work. He always rolled it out like 
 thunder. But he was an uncommon good scholar, 
 I can tell you ; which, between you and me and 
 the post, dears" — a favourite colloquialism of the 
 captain's — " / never was." 
 
 It was a very "nice" little dinner, which, 
 with a pardonable inconsistency (minding his de- 
 claration as to incompetency), the captain had 
 wholly " designed" himself. But by way of sug- 
 gestion; as, for instance: "Don't you think, 
 my dear, that a roast duck would be a good 
 thing? I don't know a better thing, in its way, 
 than " the apron" of a duck and green peas." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson talked agreeably, and tried hard 
 to talk agreeably. He told them about the ca- 
 thedral town, then about his travels somewhere
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 269 
 
 abroad. To wliicli the captain listened devoutly, 
 nodding liis head now and again, and saying: 
 "See that, now. Most entertaining. Like a 
 book, I declare!" The young girl scarcely spoke, 
 but kept her eyes fixed on him; which Mr. Til- 
 lotson was quite conscious of, and seemed to re- 
 sist in a little way, for he kept his face turned 
 away from her all the night, and addressed him- 
 self more to the elder Miss Diamond. This 
 ground she tried very often to recover, with all 
 sorts of restless arts, starting into the middle of 
 sentences, and sometimes breaking into a curious 
 volubility. But Avithout the least effect. Did 
 Mr. Tillotson, who was very sensitive, detect 
 the meaning that lay under this sort of atten- 
 tion, or did he suspect unreasonably? Rude, or 
 even politely neglectful, he could not be. But 
 there was an indistinct manner of his, which, to 
 her, was quite intelligible. Captain Diamond, 
 however, had little instinct of it. 
 
 "I am very glad to have you in this way," 
 he said, " and it is very kind of you to come. I 
 can't tell you how you entertain us. Don't he, 
 Alice? It brings up the places, you know. 
 Don't it, Alice?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, uncle," said she, eagerly. " I see 
 it all perfectly — as if it were in this room. Do, 
 do go on!"
 
 270 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " I liavc no gift for stoiy-telliiig or descrip- 
 tion," he said to Captain Diamond. "My dear 
 friend, you never heard me celebrated for that. 
 My friend Diamond, I see you hke to have your 
 joke at me." 
 
 " Joke or no joke, I tliink om' Httle Ahce paid 
 you a very handsome compHment. She herself 
 describes very well, I can tell you. What was 
 that about the Feet at Havver ? " (So the honest 
 gentleman pronounced " fete.") " I declare to 
 you, Tillotson, I never read any better in a regular 
 book." 
 
 " I daresay," said he, indifferently. " I am sure 
 of it. I can quite believe it. All ladies excel in 
 that." But he showed no desire to hear a speci- 
 men of this gift. 
 
 Captain Diamond sighed, and moved uncom- 
 fortably in his chair. " And now," said he, chang- 
 ing the subject hastily, " tell us, in all yom* adven- 
 tures did you ever meet any princess like those in 
 the story-books — any one whom you lost your 
 heart to? There, that will interest the ladies. 
 Come, now, which of the French ladies was it? 
 Ah, my boy, out with it ? Come." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson shook his head. "Never," he 
 said. "What French lady would trouble herself 
 wJth me? I never fell in with an adventure of 
 that sort, and never shall, I suppose."
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 271 
 
 " Nonsense/' said the other seriously. " Is it a 
 fine soklier-Kke fellow like you! 1 am sure you 
 will, if you only look for them. And now, in St. 
 Alans the other day ? I declare, dear, I shouldn't 
 be at all surprised. Do tell us about that young 
 lady, Tillotson." 
 
 This was all accidental on the part of Cap- 
 tain Diamond. But Mr. Tillotson seemed to 
 be uncomfortable. He was not well either. The 
 young girl's eyes, stealing over, saw his confu- 
 sion. 
 
 " All ! " she said to herself, with a start, " tliere 
 is his secret. Some one down there!" and her 
 foot went down impatiently under the table. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, she became quite restless, 
 and even bold. ^' Won't you describe this lady % '* 
 she asked him. " What was she like ? Where 
 did she live in St. Alans ? Uncle, ^^ou told us that 
 you were there once." 
 
 " Quite right, dear, so I was ; was billeted there 
 
 two nights, in the }'ear No matter. I and 
 
 Knox were put together over a saddler s. I 
 assm-e you, my dears, there was as nice a saddler's 
 daughter there as ever you could ask to see. I 
 was a young fellow then, and not long joined^ 
 but I know, for a long time after, I was quite 
 dismal about the saddler's daughter. Ah ! I see 
 you all laugh at me. Very well. There's my
 
 272 THE SF.COND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 confession for you ; and after that, I hope, my dear 
 
 Tillotson " 
 
 My. Tillotson had risen to go away, with the 
 young girl's eyes still on him. He turned his 
 face from her impatiently. "My dear friend," 
 he said to the captain, "a thousand thanks for 
 your goodness. But I am a wretched guest, and 
 don't know how to be agreeable." 
 
 With the younger girl he shook hands last, 
 and coldly. 
 
 "He is not well, I suspect," said the captain, 
 evasively. 
 
 "Ah ! do you know, nunkey, it struck me that 
 there was something in that about St. Alans." 
 
 "No, no, uncle," cried the elder; "he is not 
 thinking of such trifles. That I could see." 
 
 "I ivisJi he was," said the captain, wistfully; 
 " from my soul I do. It would take his thoughts 
 off. No, you are right, dear; and) do you 
 know, I believe I oughtn't to have joked him about 
 it." 
 
 " Why, uncle," said the younger girl, with her 
 cheeks flaming, " do you suppose he is a girl or a 
 child, that cannot bear a joke ? Really, that is too 
 good. I mean," she added, hastily, "for him, not 
 about you, dear uncle. But it is rather absurd if 
 a gentleman's feelings are to be held so sacred." 
 "Of course, dear," said the captain gently.
 
 A NEW INTEREST. 273 
 
 " And I think you are riglit. Egad ! I had to 
 rough it myself, and to bear plenty." 
 
 " Then why should he set up for this air of 
 suffering ? If we were all to do it, what a world 
 it would be ! And when there are so many in real 
 distress — the poor and the unfortunate — " 
 
 " O, Alice ! " said the elder Miss Diamond, in 
 remonstrance. 
 
 "Well, we won't be too hard on poor Tillot- 
 son," said uncle Tom ; " and, besides, I truly think 
 he was not well, the creature !" 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 
 
 That visit to St. Alans was always before Mr. Til- 
 lotson. It had, indeed, coloured his life strangely, 
 and no one could guess how much. The men 
 who met him in business always knew that he 
 was "a curious, mooning, stand-off man," and 
 those who knew him still better, said, " the fact 
 was, you know, he had got a blow some years 
 l)efore, a domestic business, which he had never 
 o;ot over." But none of them could divine the 
 new trouble he had brought away with him. 
 Down at that Httle, remote, dried-up, crusted, 
 rusted little to\vn, he had left behind him, as in 
 an ancient, old-fashioned, but precious little 
 shrine, his new-found hopes, something that 
 lived and burned, something that had light and 
 warmth, to Avhich his heart was drawn back 
 with an inexpressible yearning, as he now walked 
 among the cold corridors of the world, and laid 
 his fingers on what were to him merely cold 
 statues. He had found new^ thoughts, new in-
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 275 
 
 terest, — something that seemed a complement to, 
 and that would repair his own jagged and shat- 
 tered poor heart, something that seemed to whisper 
 to him, "Live once more, enjoy light and the 
 cheerful fires of life. You are young, and hap- 
 piness may come back once more. The past is 
 not so hopelessly gone ! " 
 
 Strange to say, the more the distance in- 
 creased, the picture he had left behind increased 
 in all the glow and intensity of colour and hap- 
 piness. Between his eyes and the cold rows of 
 figures and dry reports, now becoming more and 
 more barren every hour, it stole in softly, and 
 finally took the place of all else. From the board- 
 room — from the Babel of discussion over dis-, 
 counts and exchange, with glib tongues and wits 
 keen as razors, and sharp eyes all about him, he 
 alone abstracted, was far away, looking back to 
 that soft pictm-e of the golden-haired girl floating 
 so tranquilly from duty to duty. And when he 
 came back to what was about him, he found 
 himself as in a jail, with Avindows barred, the 
 iron at his very heart. Some strange voice 
 seemed to whisper to him that happiness was 
 now finally gone from him for ever, the very 
 last chance that was open to him, and that now 
 he had best cast himself into the arms of de- 
 spair.
 
 276 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 This, after all, was but a morbid tone of 
 thought, wrought up daily more and more by 
 constant harping and dwelling on the one theme. 
 His health was poor at all times, and the habit of 
 living alone worked on him still more. 
 
 " Why," he often said, in his lonely room, 
 pacing up and down, as his habit was — "why 
 could I not have been left as I was ? I Avas con- 
 tent with my old stock of miseries ; this dull 
 preying on them and turning them over had 
 become habitual. I was content with that wret- 
 chedness, and would have gone to my grave 
 satisfied with my round of trouble. But now, 
 to have this glimpse of paradise presented only 
 to be snatched from me, which would have re- 
 stored me to sensible, practical, peaceful life, 
 made me useful, given me tranquillity — to have 
 this hope taken from me ! Surely it had been 
 better to have been left as I was, with all my 
 old misery ! " 
 
 This was nearly his nightly meditation in his 
 gaunt room in the bachelor s house as he paced 
 up and down — a foolish, profitless parading that 
 would end foolishly, as a friendly doctor warned 
 him; not very profitable for his soul, either, as 
 a friendly spiritual physician would have told 
 him, from pulpit or confessional — a state of mind 
 certainly to be pitied.
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 277 
 
 "My dear Tillotson," said Mr. Bowater to 
 hinij clearing away some specks from liis own 
 €oat with tlie double glass, " I want to speak to 
 you. You see, I remark you are not in good 
 tone latterly. Now, really you should make a 
 push for it. We all have our battle of life, and 
 we all know that you have your peck of troubles." 
 Mi\ Bowater pronounced this phrase Avith great 
 musical emphasis, as if it were part of that peck 
 of malt which AVillie had brewed. " A peck of 
 
 troubles. I know " 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Tillotson, sadly; "but—" 
 "Ah! but yes, though," said Mr. Bowater. 
 "I assure you there is but one remedy — work. 
 Keep the mind going, my dear friend. When I 
 missed the [Medway Dock Estate offered to me, 
 I give you my honour and soul, for literally next 
 to a song (you know what a property it is now !) 
 — I was going to stint myself — give up going out 
 to dinners, and that sort of thing — ^^vhen a friend 
 recommended business — hard, earnest business. 
 Well, I followed his advice, sir, and here I am. 
 Now here's a chance for you. Suppose you take 
 home these reports, work through 'em, figures and 
 all, abstract them, and tell. us what you think of 
 it ? You'll find it hard enough for your teeth, my 
 friend, but I'll swear you'll be — let me see — three- 
 and-a-quarter per cent better."
 
 278 THE SECOND MKS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 This was really kind advice ; and, going home^ 
 Mr. Tillotson turned it over. He might try it, 
 he thought, and so he plunged eagerly into the 
 reports. It was a very hard nut indeed, as ]\li\ 
 Bowater had said. He attacked it bravely, and 
 sat up very many nights hard at work, until at 
 last, after one long night, it icas cracked. He 
 came with it in this state to the office, very 
 weary in mind and body, and not, as may be 
 conceived, in the least benefited by ]\[i\ Bowater's 
 remedy. 
 
 It was a report on an Indian branch of the 
 bank — the "Bhootan Foncier Extension Branch" 
 — which required the aid of rupees and In- 
 dian exchanges, and referred to ryots, and such 
 things. 
 
 "Why, bless me, Tillotson," said Mr. Bow- 
 ater, Avhen he saw him, "what have you been 
 doing to yourself? You should take care, you 
 know — not push the thing too far. Well — done 
 it? Capital! For here is Mr. Mackenzie just 
 fresh from Calcutta, and you can settle the 
 whole thing with him. Go into that room, Til- 
 lotson, take the reports and Mackenzie with you, 
 and not a soul shall disturb you till you are done^ 
 There." 
 
 Ml'. Tillotson and the Eastern Mr. Mackenzie 
 withdrew into the room. Tliev both went into
 
 THE END OF A LOYE. 279 
 
 the routine of busiiiess, the former putting his 
 hand very often to his forehead. Soon the 
 table was spread out with papers, and books of 
 papers, and great reports, and files and dockets, 
 all bearing on the Eastern Bhootan Branch of 
 the great bank. Mr. Tillotson, with an effort, 
 however, went through it all mechanicall}-, but 
 still with great practical sense. For, as Mi*. 
 Bowater said, " Tillotson, when he chose to lay his 
 mind to a thing, was about as good a man of busi- 
 ness as you could light on at any desk between 
 this and Temple Bar." As he turned over the 
 papers listlessly, and listened to the ceaseless flow 
 of Mr. Mackenzie's exj^lanations, delivered with 
 a strong Scotch burr, his eye fell upon a little^ 
 sheaf of papers pinned together, and on one of 
 which he saw the name "Ross." He took it 
 up eagerly, turned them over one by one. They 
 were all bills, and a letter or two. 
 
 "O, that fellow" said Mr. Mackenzie, inter- 
 rupting himself; "you are looking at his little 
 account. He gave us trouble enough, he and his 
 friend. A nice pair. I was up at the hills at 
 the time, or we should never have ^touched' 
 them." 
 
 There was interest in Mr. Tillot'son's eyes. 
 
 "We were glad to compound with him on 
 any terms, and, as it was, he ^did us' shame-
 
 280 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 fully. But I was up at the hills at the time. 
 Mrs. Mackenzie, you know, was just then on 
 
 the point of No matter now. When I came 
 
 back, however, I soon frightened the pair, and 
 I think I would have saved every shilling for 
 the bank without noise or trouble, only then 
 came the Bhootan scrape, which disposed of all our 
 chance." 
 
 " What scrape ?" said Mr. Tillotson, eagerly. 
 
 " O, you heard it, of course," said the other, 
 " though I believe it was kept out of the papers — 
 I mean, about torturing the Coolie. They were 
 half drunk. He and his friend came home one 
 night and found this Coolie fellow hadn't got some- 
 thing ready when they had ordered. The way 
 they tortured this poor devil — sticking fusees under 
 his nails, burning his eye-brows, writing his name 
 on his back with hot wood — it was the most bar- 
 barous thing you could fancy. The man died of it.' 
 
 " And was there no punishment ?" he asked. 
 
 " O, the thing was talked about, and an inquiry 
 spoken of; but they managed to get the relatives 
 out of the way. Then it was inquired into, and it 
 was too late. A little money goes a great way in 
 Bhootan. But I had it from my servant, who knew 
 it all, and, I believe, saw some of it. Boss, he said, 
 was like a savage ; his friend Grainger was trying 
 to save the poor devil."
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 281 
 
 " Grainger ?" said Mr. Tillotsoii. " To be sure. 
 I have met him." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Mackenzie, " he's a great tra- 
 veller. But that Koss, for a young man, is the most 
 dangerous, ill-conditioned savage I ever met. I 
 almost think the sun had something to do with it. It 
 seems at times like drink on him ; but, sair," added 
 Mr. Mackenzie, in his strong native accent, " it is 
 the drunkenness of a bad hairt and eveel paissions." 
 
 " And did you know any more of him ?" asked 
 Mr. Tillotson, a little eagerly. 
 
 " Not I, so much as others," said ^ir. Macken- 
 zie, moving his papers restlessly, as if they w^ere 
 now losing time. " There were all sorts of stories, 
 you know\ There w^as that business of Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor, which I know of myself, for poor Sandie 
 told me himself wdien he was lying heart-broken on 
 his bed just before he died. All that -vvas vairy, 
 vairy bad. A young and winsome creature ruined, 
 ruined !" 
 
 " But these may be stories — ^" 
 
 " I can gie you chaipter and vairse," said Mr. 
 Mackenzie, " at another time, sir. It would shock 
 your very ears to hear all I could tell you about 
 that young man, and then his behaviour to the 
 bank, sir, beyond all — ^" 
 
 They w^ent back to the Bhootan reports. But 
 Mr. Tillotson was very abstracted and restless, and
 
 282 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 could hai'dly follow the details ; so much so, that 
 M\ Bowater, later, was inclined to retract the hand- 
 some commendation he was giving of Mr Tillotson 
 being a " first-class man of business." AVlien the 
 day was done, Mi\ Tillotson said, anxiously, to the 
 Indian manager, " Could you spare me an hour in 
 the morning, and tell me more about what you have 
 been saying, and with more particularity ? All 
 this concerns a person in whom I am interested, 
 and who it is very right should know something 
 of it." 
 
 "Indeed; then I can," said ]Sii\ Mackenzie. 
 " His pairsonal behaviour to the bank was simply 
 outrageous, and ought never to be forgotten. I'll 
 come, sir, and give you chaipter and vairse." 
 
 Mr. Tillotson went home in a perfect ferment. 
 Long he walked up and down his room that nighty 
 and turned over matters until his head was in a 
 fever. It was surely a matter of duty with him to 
 caution one he regarded with such ineffable in- 
 terest. In the morning, ]\Ii\ Mackenzie came with 
 details, and very fair proofs in his details, and left 
 Mr. Tillotson quite satisfied. Then began his in- 
 ward counsel, his walkings, and his tempestuous 
 reasonings. The course that was opened to him 
 was obvious. "But what," he thought, "will she 
 — so generous, so noble, so magnanimous — think 
 of such a secret denunciation of one who might
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 283 
 
 stand in my wayf Still the absorbing feeling of 
 all was love for Iter, and to this, before post hour 
 came, he determined to sacrifice every thing. 
 
 It was the first letter he had ever written to 
 her. He wrote it ten times over, and then, at last, 
 it was sent. Unknown to himself, it assumed a 
 vein of exquisite and melancholy tenderness; in 
 every line it betrayed the extraordinary passion 
 that was nearly consuming him. He told, how- 
 e\'er, ^ery plainly what he had heard. He him- 
 self might now speak, he said, without ambiguity 
 or reticence, for reasons that she well knew. It 
 might, indeed, appear to her that what he wrote 
 was dictated by suspicious motives ; but it was a 
 sacred duty with him to s])eak. Then he sent it» 
 away. To that letter he never received an an- 
 swer. 
 
 Day after day rolled by. Weary night fol- 
 lowed weary day. He had looked for an answer 
 absolutely "by return." She who was so tender 
 and delicate would surely not let a superfluous 
 hour go by without telling him what she thought. 
 There went away a day and yet another day. He 
 began to torture himself in a thousand ways to 
 explain this ; and, at last, after a week, arrived at 
 the 'certainty that, sliocked at what he had done, 
 she could not trust herself to write freely, either
 
 284 THE SECOND 3IRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 in approval or condemnation, and forbore to notice 
 his caution at all. Then the step he had taken 
 showed itself with almost appalling deformity, as 
 it were, in black shadows upon the wall ; and it 
 struck him almost from the first how ill any one 
 would receive such a communication as to the past 
 life of a future husband, and he murmured to 
 himself in despair, " Always a fool — always to be 
 a fool!" 
 
 Another two days went by; and one night, 
 passing his blank vigils, a letter was brought in 
 to him — but not the one he waited for. It was 
 from Ross, dated from Ireland, where his regi- 
 ment was, and whence it was shortly to embark for 
 Gibraltar. It was a stran2;e mixture of rao^e and 
 calmness, and seemed to reflect the character and 
 moods of the man as he spoke. It began in a 
 friendly way: "Dear Tillotson," and went on: 
 " I have heard of what you have been at latterly, 
 and write this to give you fair warning. Don't 
 busy yourself with my concerns. I suppose you 
 think because you have done a little twopenny- 
 halfpenny service to me — and any gentleman, let 
 me tell you, might be exposed to be taken in that 
 way — you can go on any way you like. By 
 heavens ! you shall not. I won't take it from you, 
 or any other man. You set up to be a virtuous, 
 pious, preaching fellow, — you do^ — and I suppose
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 285 
 
 you think it right to go sneaking about picking up 
 stories, and writing them down to them. I wish 
 you joy of your trade, my friend ! I think you 
 have found out it won't advance you much in 
 tlmt quarter. You are welcome to go and scrub 
 and grub, and fish out what you can about me, 
 and you won't fish much, I can tell you. I won't 
 stand it longer, though — I tell you that. Do you 
 think I forget the night you struck me in that 
 mangy dirty town, and you came to me whining, 
 and pretending you didn't know who it was ? I'll 
 be even with you, Tillotson, by G — d, and pay you 
 back that cut before I die, mind me. And I sup- 
 pose now, because you think I am shut up here in 
 these infernal regions, that you can go on mtl^ 
 your old sneaking tricks? Now, dorit think it! 
 (I suppose you saw we were ordered abroad to 
 Gib ?) And don't go on ; for if I hear a ghost of 
 a whisper that you are sneaking about and trading 
 on my absence, I'll come back and give you a 
 lesson that you'll rue to your death, or will he 
 your death — I don't cai'e which." 
 
 He had forgotten to sign his name ; but it was 
 easy for Mr. Tillotson to know who it came from. 
 Yet on his mind all this strino; of incoherence 
 made not the least impression ; he was reading on, 
 waiting, hoping to find something that concerned 
 him more nearly. But he never found it, and
 
 286 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 here he was at the end, with the certainty that 
 she had treated his caution w^ith the contempt it 
 deserved, that slie disdained to reply to him, and 
 that she thought liis behavioiu' unworthy of an 
 honourable man. "It is quite clear,*' he said, with 
 a sort of relief; "it is all explained nowy As 
 for the mad letter he had just read, it as com- 
 pletely passed from his mind as if it were merely 
 the symbols and letters in which the other greater 
 blow must be conveyed. He never thought agahi 
 of that Ross, who was only speaking according to 
 his frantic nature. 
 
 Down at St. Alans, at the old rusted sanctuary 
 of the Cathedral Close, there were strange troubles 
 gathering about the Tilney family. One thing- 
 was coming after another. The young golden- 
 haired girl happened to be out on some usual 
 mission when the post of that day came in. Mrs. 
 Tilney alone was at home, in ill humour with the 
 troubles the world w^as heaping on her, and saw 
 this strange letter, in a hand which she seemed to 
 know, and, above all, directed to Ada, Avho rarely 
 received one. Not caring to be subject to any 
 social restraints in reference to a person of such 
 unimportant consideration, and thinking it was 
 rather too much that she was to be "hoped up" 
 with the pangs of curiosity in addition to her other
 
 THE END OF A LOVE. 287 
 
 trials, she presently opened it, and read Mr. Til- 
 lotson's secret letter. She was a little alarmed 
 when she saw of what a confidential sort it was ; 
 but the alarm presently gave place to anger. Mr. 
 Ross's prospects had brightened a good deal of 
 late, and she hoped that some profit might be got 
 for the family out of his ultimate success. She 
 never relished Mr. Tillotson from the first. He 
 had not paid her that implied homage, even to past 
 charms, which she expected from every man^ in 
 some degi'ee. She did not love Ada, and his pre- 
 ference for Ada, now revealed to her officially for 
 the first time, to the prejudice of her own daugh- 
 ters, inflamed these feelings. " I'll have neither art 
 nor part in it," she said to herself; "let her look 
 out for herself." There was, besides, the difficulty 
 of re-sealing; for withal she stood a little in awe of 
 Ada, who would have calmly denounced such a 
 proceeding; and as the readiest course, destroyed 
 it. But she went beyond this, for she wrote a 
 little note to Ross, telling him to be on his guard, 
 for " that fellow Tillotson was o;oiiiiX about ferret- 
 ing out stories about him in India, and writing 
 them down to us here."
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 ILLNESS. 
 
 They did not see Mr. Tillotson at tlie captain's 
 house for a long time. Day after day went by, 
 and tliey heard nothing. At last, Captain Dia- 
 mond had put on the bishop's hat and the gray 
 thread gloves, and limped aAvay on what he called 
 " his three legs," on a private expedition of his 
 own. The private expedition was to the grand 
 office of the Foncier Bank, in whose halls there 
 was, as usual, a crowd — a crowd of angels with 
 pens behind their ears, and fluttering wings of 
 paper in their hands, who were flying to and fro, 
 and bringing joyful or evil tidings to man. Cap- 
 tain Diamond stopped a stout and apoplectic angel 
 in a scarlet waistcoat to ask for his friend. 
 
 " Mr. Tillotson, sir ? Not here to-day. Not 
 been here since a week — a little unwell. Like 
 to see Mr. Newton? — if you step this way, 
 sir." 
 
 For one of the grand principles of the Foncier 
 Company was to welcome every body with warmth,
 
 ILLNESS. 289 
 
 and a part of their capital was set aside for in- 
 suring politeness and attention. 
 
 The captain walked away in trouble. " I was 
 sure of it," he said. " I saw it in his face that 
 night. And I declare I ought not to have joked 
 him, poor fellow." 
 
 And having called a cab, he drove off to the 
 chambers where Mr. Tillotson lived. 
 
 They were not fashionable, but they were out 
 of the way, and at this time of the year the rooms 
 were not " very well let." It seemed a grand 
 solitude. There were mahogany doors, and under 
 a black hood in the hall a porter sat and took in 
 messages. It had been Lord Mogador's in the 
 old times. 
 
 '' He's not been well at all," said this func- 
 tionary. " You see, he's been overworking him- 
 self lately at the bank, sir," he added, getting out 
 of the hood and becoming intimate and confi- 
 dential with the captain, as every one was sure 
 to do. 
 
 '^ Ah, now ! Is that it ?" said the captain, 
 with deep feeling, and reciprocating this confi- 
 dence. " Do you know, I was afraid so. He 
 dined with us not long ago, and I was afraid then. 
 Now would you take him up this card?" 
 
 He found Mr. Tillotson up, with his hand to 
 his head, sitting at his table. " This is very kind 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 of you," said the latter. " I am trying to fight it 
 off, you see, and I hope I shall. Those accounts 
 and figures make my head swim, so I am trying 
 what a little change will do." 
 
 " But, my dear friend," the captain said, look- 
 ing round despondingly. " This is not the way 
 to fight it off. You don't call this a change. No, 
 no. This is the way to bring it on. This is the 
 way to be beaten." 
 
 " Well, and if I am," said Mr. TiHotsou, " per- 
 haps it would be all the better." 
 
 ^' But it isn't, it couldn't," said the captain, 
 eagerly. " You mustn't give in to this sort of 
 thing. You must rouse, my friend. There was 
 poor Tom Hammond, who went off just by giving 
 way. Have you seen any body ?" 
 
 "Ko, no," said Mr. Tillotson. "There is 
 nothing to see any one about. They would only 
 laugh at me. No, no, I shall be all right 
 soon." 
 
 " Then see — come up to us," said the captain, 
 " and take a bit of dinner. Do now. Oblige old 
 Tom — come. The girls will amuse- you. And 
 little Alice— who is a sweet child, and the life of 
 us all, was a little sore about it — between you and 
 me and the post. You know women — the crea- 
 tures ! — they feel every thing. God knows, they 
 all suffer enough — from the Post itself — and do
 
 ILLNESS. 291 
 
 you know, Tillotson, I should always like to spare 
 them when I could." 
 
 " Indeed, what you say covers me with con- 
 fusion," said Mr. Tillotson; "but you believe 
 me when I tell you I hardly knew what I was 
 saying ? And give my especial apologies to Miss 
 Alice." 
 
 " Apologies, nonsense. But I'll tell them. 
 Then you can't come? No, I suppose it would 
 be better not. Very well. Now, now. You 
 must take care of yourself. I wish to God you 
 were out of this. It is very lonely, isn't it ?" 
 
 " The landlord is not flourishing," said Mr. 
 TiUotson. " I and another gentleman — a barris- 
 ter, I believe — are his only tenants. It would b^ 
 cruel to leave him, you know." 
 
 " Well, promise me to see some one. Let me 
 send Gilpin to you." 
 
 Captain Diamond, however, had to leave with- 
 out obtaining any satisfactory assurance. But he 
 had a second interview in the hall with the tenant 
 of the lioodj who by this time seemed to have a 
 sort of personal regard for him, and who laid his 
 hand on the captain's arm, as he impressed on him 
 that " the poor gentleman neglected himself sadly, 
 sadly, sir!" 'And with him the captain agreed, 
 and, going away, made him promise to come 
 straight to his house on any emergency. The
 
 292 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 captain knew enough of human nature not to trust 
 exclusively to this sudden intimacy or mere feeling 
 for the porter's recollection of this promise. 
 
 He went home with this news, and told " the 
 girls" at dinner. " Poor fellow ! And he made 
 his apologies to my little girl there in so gentle- 
 manly a way. I saw he was ill, though I don't 
 know exactly now what he did. I think he was 
 absent or inattentive. Was that it, Alice?" 
 
 This was asked in perfect simplicity. But she 
 fell into confusion as perfect. 
 
 " And I," she said, warmly, ^^ was so sharp 
 and pert to him. I know I was. Was I not, 
 Anne?" 
 
 The elder girl, working, answered quickly, and 
 without lifting her head, " I thought not. I never 
 remarked it." 
 
 " But he remarked it, you see," she said, get- 
 ting up, and going over to the fire. " He saw 
 it. Upstairs I could have cut my tongue out. 
 And he w^as ill all the time." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! yes," went on the captain ; 
 ^^ and if you only saw the lonely place he is in ! 
 Quite dreadful ! I know I'd sooner be sent off to 
 an hospital ! Better to have company about one, 
 any day. I declare I got quite a shiver when I 
 saw him in that lonely place, without a soul to 
 look after him."
 
 ILLNESS. 293 
 
 The younger girl stopped in her walk, and 
 looking at her uncle with wistful, half- tearful 
 eyes, said, ^'0, uncle! how dreadful! Ah! don't 
 you pity him ?" 
 
 The captain looked at her back again. ^' Give 
 me the hand," he said (one of his pet phrases). 
 " Give me the hand, dear. You are a good 
 girl." 
 
 At that moment the maid of the house came 
 to the door, and said a man was below wanting to 
 see the captain. 
 
 " Who can he be ?" said he. " What ca7i he 
 want?" 
 
 And he lifted himself, as usual, by a sort of 
 leverage, by the aid of table and chair. These' 
 little motions and gestures were all part of the 
 man, and necessary to the idea of him, in those 
 who loved him. 
 
 '' Don't you loiow ?" the young girl said, 
 heartily. " Don't you see ? It is about Mr. Til- 
 lotson. He is ill ; he is worse." 
 
 '^ God bless me !" said Captain Diamond, be- 
 wildered at this marvellous instinct. 
 
 " Tell him to come up here, Mary," she said, 
 decisively. 
 
 The porter came up. " I thought it right to 
 come to you, sir," he said, " as you told me" 
 (this " telling" was scarcely the sole reason) ;
 
 294 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " but lie's very bad to-night. Had to take to 
 bed about an hour after you left. And, between 
 you and me, sir, I think it's something like 
 fever." 
 
 " And did you send for no doctor?" the young 
 girl said, excitedly. 
 
 " He wouldn't hear of that, miss. He bound 
 me up solemnly. He said he'd leave the house 
 if—" 
 
 " And did you mind him ?" she said, almost 
 scornfully, and turning away from him. " I 
 suppose you would let him die to obey his in- 
 structions." 
 
 The porter was sent away presently, gratified 
 with a glass of wine '' after his walk." 
 
 " I am exceedingly obliged to you," the cap- 
 tain added, with great courtesy. " It was very 
 kind and considerate of you." For he seemed to 
 forget that there was another inducement in the 
 case besides kindness and consideration. 
 
 " Now, uncle," said she, " what is to be 
 done ?" 
 
 '' Give me the hand," said the captain. '^ Quite 
 right. What is to be done ? We must bring the 
 poor fellow a doctor. That is the first thing. See. 
 I'll go for Grilpin myself" 
 
 And he got up and went to his room, whence 
 he came limping with the gray gloves and bishop's
 
 ILLNESS. 295 
 
 hat. On the landing a figure met him, and said, 
 softly and confidentially, " Nunkey, may I go with 
 you in the cab, merely just for company?" 
 
 " Who's this ?" said the captain. " Ah, Alice. 
 To be sure, and glad to have you with me. But 
 won't you be afraid ? It's a rough night." 
 
 " Thanks, my dear nunkey. I'll fetch my 
 bonnet in a second." 
 
 She was not indeed fifty seconds " getting on" 
 her bonnet, and took her uncle's arm downstairs. 
 
 " Good Alice," he said, in the cab. '' Give 
 me the hand. You are a girl of spirit; and I 
 don't wonder at your liking poor Tillotson. God 
 knows I feel for him." 
 
 They went for Dr. Gilpin first, but found th*t 
 he was out. He was to be in in about half-an- 
 hour for the night, and the captain left a message 
 for him. Then they went off to Duke's Chambers. 
 
 " I can't leave you in that cold cab, dear," 
 said the captain, limping down the step. " And I 
 should be afraid," he added, doubtfully. 
 
 " I am not afraid," she said, springing out. 
 " There is no infection, dear uncle. I can wait 
 below." 
 
 " Ah, yes," he said. " That's just it." 
 
 And in the porter's room, where, however, 
 there was a light but no fire, she stayed while 
 her uncle went up.
 
 296 THE SECOND MES. TILLOTSON. 
 
 He found his friend in bed inside another room, 
 tossing miserably. It was indeed a fever. His 
 eyes were fiery, and he hardly knew the cajotain. 
 
 " He's worse by far than when I left him," 
 said the porter. 
 
 The captain had some knowledge of elementary 
 physic, and some old-fashioned remedies as drinks 
 and such-like, and was presently limping round 
 the room, trying to look up any thing that would 
 be useful for his composition. He did not find 
 much. ^' Egad, I wish Gilpin would come. His 
 head isn't high enough, poor fellow," he said, with 
 deep compassion. '' We might get a cushion out 
 of the next room." 
 
 In the next room, which was half dark, a figure 
 stole up to him. '' God bless me," said uncle 
 Tom, " what's this ?" 
 
 " 0, uncle, it was so cold and lonely below. 
 And how is he ? Is it so bad ?" 
 
 '^ Well, he's not well, and I don't like it, dear, 
 you know. And you feel for him, I'm sure you 
 do. If I could find a cushion, now — " 
 
 She was looking for one in a moment, and 
 found one. " I am sure," she said, wistfully, " I 
 could be useful in some way. Is there nothing I 
 could do?" 
 
 " I'm sure you could," said the captain. " All, 
 there's Gilpin. I knew he'd come."
 
 ILLNESS. 207 
 
 Gilpin, the friendly doctor, went in, drew aside 
 tlie curtains, held the light close to that pale face, 
 did the customary '^ feeling," and touching, and 
 pressing, satisfied himself, and then came into 
 the middle of the room. The captain and the old 
 porter waited eagerly and anxiously to hear his 
 report. 
 
 " Why, this is fever — nervous fever," he said ; 
 " and he must have had it on him this week past. 
 How did you let him go so far?" 
 
 " We could do nothing with him," said the 
 porter. " He never looks after himself. I saw 
 it coming on him ; but you might as well talk to 
 the Avind as to him." 
 
 " Nervous fever," said the captain, anxiously.- 
 ^' That's a bad sort of thing — eh, doctor? What 
 do you say?" 
 
 " Can't say any thing now, captain," said the 
 doctor, writing. " I should have seen him before 
 now. But we must only try and patch up as well 
 as we can." He finished the prescription. " You 
 must get a nurse," he said, ^^ of course. This is 
 a very ticklish matter. Diamond, I tell you plainly. 
 Is that a nurse in the next room ?" 
 
 '' No, no. God bless me !" — inventing, with 
 extraordinary readiness, a legend to cover his 
 niece's situation — " it's only a little maid of ours, 
 whom, as we w^ere going the same way, you know,
 
 298 THE SECOND MllS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 I thought I might drop at a shop." For the cap- 
 tain, though he would have scorned a falsehood 
 for any ends of his own, was always ready in the 
 cause of affection and chivalry with the most fertile 
 invention. 
 
 " Now, see, my friend," said Gilpin, holding 
 out the wet prescription. " Get this made up, get 
 the nurse, and with this he may do very well for 
 the next couple of days. The fact is, I must go 
 down to the south to-morrow, and can't get back 
 for some time." 
 
 '' My goodness !" said the captain, aghast, as 
 if his departm'e withdrew all medical aid from the 
 world ; " sure you won't throw us over, Gilpin ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you," said the doctor, rising. " If 
 he should get suddenly bad — but I don't think he 
 will — send to Dennison, Sir Duncan Dennison, 
 the Queen's physician. There is only one man in 
 London knows nervous fevers, and that's Denni- 
 son. It's miraculous ! If you can't get Dennison 
 — and it's very likely you won't — why you must 
 try Stony, or some of the rest." 
 
 The doctor was going. " My dear Gilpin," 
 said the captain, busy with the purse, '^ how kind 
 of you — how good of you !" 
 
 " Nonsense ! my friend," said the doctor, 
 putting back the purse. "What are you at? 
 All in good time."
 
 ILLNESS. 299 
 
 A muffled little figure went liuiTiedly to the 
 window as they passed through the next room — the 
 figure of the little maid, whom the captain was 
 bringing to a shop. He looked sharply at her, 
 and went away. 
 
 That, indeed, proved the beginning of a ter- 
 rible nervous fever which seized on Mr. Tillotson. 
 For hours he was tossing and writhing in its 
 grasp. With difficulty Captain Diamond brought 
 away his niece, and quietly put her in the cab, 
 with all sorts of assurances. The declarations he 
 put into the doctor's mouth — with a most deli- 
 cate end — would have astounded that practitioner. 
 " On my oath, my dearest little girl, he said so. 
 Be up and down at his work the day after to-- 
 morrow, or the next day after that at furthest. 
 On my oath, yes!" But this romance was all 
 superfluous, for the supposed maid had been at 
 the door, and heard the true verdict. 
 
 Yet, for the case of a person who was to re- 
 cover and be at his work on the day afler to- 
 morrow, the captain was singularly nervous and 
 anxious. When they came down to breakfast, 
 they found that he was already gone, having left 
 word that he would be back " soon." He did not 
 return until nearly four; the little girl had an 
 anxious, restless time, running to the window. 
 
 The elder Miss Diamond, in the drawing-room.
 
 300 
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 talked very confidently to comfort her. "He is 
 strong," she said, " and is sure to get over it. 
 Men always get over these things." 
 
 " I hope he will," said the other devoutly, 
 still looking out of the window, '-''for the dear 
 captaivis sake." 
 
 " Yes," said the elder girl, gravely, " uncle 
 Diamond would grieve dreadfully." 
 
 But, in the bedroom, the grim Martha Mal- 
 colm had a different sort of comfort. " What a 
 pother!" she said; "he's neither kith nor kin to 
 any of us, and must bear his trials like any other 
 man. The whole house turned upside down, the 
 captain gone without his breakfast, all for a count- 
 ing-house fellow, that has money enough to buy 
 friends ready made. What work it is !" 
 
 " Ah, but, Martha, think of the poor creature 
 lying there, without a soul to go near him ! If 
 you knew his story, how he has suffered — " 
 
 " And why didn't he make friends of his 
 Mammon ? Ah, I see it's wasting time talking to 
 you^ Miss Alice. It's ill talking to those as won't 
 care to listen, and for good reasons of their own." 
 
 The colour rose to the cheeks of the little pale 
 girl, but she said nothing. She heard the voice 
 of the captain below, and ran down. There was 
 a change in his face to the greatest cheerfulness 
 and heartiness.
 
 ILLNESS. 301 
 
 '' We're getting along," he said ; ^^ rallying 
 like a house afire. 0, he'll be as well as a roach ; 
 let me see," the captain said, fixing on a date 
 carefully — " by next Friday." Then his face (as if 
 a spring had relaxed) suddenly fell into a very 
 mournful expression, quite inconsistent with such 
 good news. 
 
 "Ah, you are only telling me this, uncle," 
 she said, impatiently. " I hioiv he is bad." 
 
 " On oath," the captain was beginning. 
 
 " Yes, I know he is ill," she went on, ex- 
 citedly ; " and what is the use of trying to deceive 
 me ? / know that he is very bad indeed." 
 
 " Well," said uncle Diamond, " perhaps he is 
 not so well as he was ; but he'll do wonderfully 
 yet. Why, God bless me ! I have known men 
 stretched there on the broad of their backs for 
 weeks, and not a bit the worse — not a bit." Then 
 the captain's voice fell into a feeling key, and with 
 a look of deep compassion he said, " My poor little 
 girl, we must take these things as they are sent. 
 My heart bleeds for that poor Tillotson, it does in- 
 deed. But we must pull him through." 
 
 But the next day, after the captain came back, 
 all his powers of deception and cheerful little men- 
 dacities could not disguise the truth. It was a raw, 
 piercing day, and the captain, in a very thin great- 
 coat, limped along steadily to wait on his friend.
 
 302 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 He said he would be back at four, ^^with tip-top 
 news." But that hour had long passed, and he 
 did not return. There was an anxious face at the 
 window looking out watching the gusts, and the 
 east wind piercing the walkers through and through. 
 At that moment, when they were just thinking of 
 dinner, the captain drove up in a cab, which he 
 kept waiting at the door. He came in to them 
 with a curious, wistful look. 
 
 "Gilpin's not come back," he said; "very 
 odd, ain't it?" 
 
 " You know he wasn't to be back," said the 
 elder Miss Diamond. 
 
 " No, to be sure," said he, with alacrity. 
 " What an old Tom-the-Goose I am ! Always the 
 way with me. I should forget this lame leg of 
 mine if it wasn't fastened to me." 
 
 " And how is he to-night, nmikey ?" said the 
 young girl. 
 
 " Not so well," said he dismally ; " not quite so 
 well, I mean, as we could all wish, you know. 
 Between you and me and the post, I wish Gilpin 
 was back." 
 
 " I knew it would be this way," the young 
 girl cried, impulsively. " Of course he is not 
 back, and won't be back. What is to become of 
 him?" 
 
 " Here is dinner, sir," said Martha Malcolm,
 
 ILLNESS. 303 
 
 suddenly appearing at the door, " cooling and half 
 spoiled, while other people are running about the 
 town. Take my advice, captain, and leave him to 
 the regular doctors. Let him pay them, and they'll 
 get him through." 
 
 " At any rate, uncle, you must eat your dinner 
 now." 
 
 ^^ Dinner !" said uncle Diamond. " Lord bless 
 you ! I've dined two hours ago. Had a chop at 
 The Son and Heir. As good a couple of chops as 
 were ever cut off a loin. By the way, dear, you 
 don't remember the name of that surgeon to a 
 palace, the fellow that waits on the royal family 
 when they're sick, do you ? Mere curiosity, you 
 know." 
 
 " Ah," said the girl, starting, " then you want 
 him ? So he is bad, very bad ?" 
 
 " No, no. On my oath, no. I wasn't think- 
 ing of it. It was only to ease my own mind. 
 Egad, I had forgot. There's the wig to be dressed, 
 — old Tom's, — and I'll look in on our patient as 
 I come romid." 
 
 They told' him the name, accepting his little 
 fictions. The captain, when he was out of earshot, 
 bade the man drive " as hard as he could go" to 
 the square where Sir Duncan Dennison, Bart., 
 physician in ordinary to the Queen, resided. It 
 was now a little after seven, and a servant, evi- 
 dently in his evening suit, threw open the door.
 
 304 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 The captain, not in the least awed, put his card 
 into the menial's hand, and bade him take it in to 
 his master. There was a half-crown under the 
 card. "And see, my man, I'll be obliged to you 
 to get this done at once. Case of life and death, 
 you know. And, see, don't mind about getting 
 out his own horses. I'll bring him off myself." 
 
 The servant smiled at this pardonable igno- 
 rance, but told him very respectfully, letting the 
 half-crown into a rich plush treasury, that he was 
 very sorry about it, but it couldn't be done or 
 even thought of. " Fact is," he said confidentially, 
 '' Sir Duncan has a dinner to some of the 'Ouse- 
 hold, and he's a dressin', sir, at this moment. And 
 you see, sir, in fact, I run up in a 'urry, taking 
 you to be one of the company." 
 
 The captain's face fell. Still he was of that 
 school who believe that money, like Hannibal's 
 hot vinegar, will move even rocks, and he felt in 
 his pocket for another half-crown. 
 
 The servant saw the motion, and was so really 
 taken by this simple liberal gentleman, that he said 
 with sympathy, " It ain't no use, I tell you plainly, 
 sir. Sir Duncan's got dinner-company coming, and 
 wouldn't stir 'cept for her Majesty. I dusn't do 
 it, sir. Very sorry indeed. Beg pardon, sir ; but 
 there's fust carriage." 
 
 " Fust" carriage was indeed now clattering up 
 and plunging to the door, and Captain Diamond,
 
 ILLNESS. 305 
 
 seeing that it was hopeless, limped hopelessly aside 
 out of the blaze of such glories. 
 
 He was in deep trouble, and hardly knew what 
 to do. The words of Gilpin seemed to ring in his 
 ears like a bell, that there was no man the equal 
 of Dennison for the treatment of nervous fever. 
 There were surely other men as good, except only 
 for that positive declaration of Gilpin's, and the cap- 
 tain had a reverence, next to what he had had for 
 the commander-in-chief, for the oracular opinions 
 of medical men. He was in a dreadful puzzle and 
 trouble, for both apothecary and nurse had jointly 
 and severally declared that the patient was every 
 moment getting worse. 
 
 He came back to the house about nine. The* 
 young girl who had complained of headache, had 
 been got to go to bed, under an offer, voluntarily 
 made by the elder Miss Diamond, that she would 
 come and repeat such news as might come in. 
 
 The captain came in with his troubles written 
 on his face. He looked round cautiously, to see 
 was "his little girl" present. 
 
 " My heart is broken," he said. " My dear, I 
 don't know what to do. What would you say? 
 Wait for Gilpin — he may be back to-night — or 
 get in another fellow ? Ah ! if we could only get 
 hold of that Dennison. Wonderfully tip-top man, 
 I'm told. Can do any thing with a touch. It's 
 very unfortunate." 
 
 VOL. I. '' X
 
 306 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " My clear uncle, I should say get in some less 
 skilful doctor, who will do well enough." 
 
 " But then we can have Dennison to-morrow 
 morning, the first thing ; and this fellow may turn 
 out a botch, and spoil the work for him. And the 
 poor fellow may be getting worse every moment. 
 She's abed, is she ? Glad of it, poor little soul. 
 What are we to do ?" 
 
 Neither uncle nor niece could hear the light 
 steps nor see the little slight figure wrapped in a 
 giant's cloak which was at the door. 
 
 " Damn that pampered Queen's doctor !" said 
 uncle Diamond, with sudden rage and imprecation. 
 ^' What business has he to be filling himself with 
 meat and drink, and givin' his dinners, when 
 there are Queen's subjects dying in the country, 
 and a touch from him would put a poor fellow 
 on his legs ?" 
 
 " Suppose, dear uncle, we sent back to Dr. 
 Gilpin again. He might have come back." 
 
 '^Very sensible, my dear," said the captain, 
 rising to get his shovel -hat. ^^ Ah, see there now ! 
 Woman's sense ! Give me the hand. The very 
 thing." 
 
 " But you must not go yourself," said she. 
 ^' You are wearing yourself out." 
 
 " I like it," said he. " I like this junketing 
 about in cabs ; I do indeed." And away he went 
 once more to Dr. Gilpin's.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 
 
 Not long after, Miss Diamond went up to the 
 younger girl's room and found the door fastened ; 
 so she was fast asleep, no doubt. Though she 
 could hardly have slept in the jingling, clattering 
 cab which was carrying her away to the square 
 where the great doctor resided who was Queen's 
 physician, though he had only a small fraction qf 
 the royal practice, it being shared among some six 
 other of his brethren. A cold night, with cold air 
 coming in through the crevices of the ill-closing 
 doors and windows, and the fairy figure inside 
 shivered sometimes a good deal, still she was 
 warm in heart and excited ; and that small face, 
 as the cab turned a corner sharply, was flashed 
 on by the street lamps, and showed an anxious 
 and eager air, imtil at last it drew up at a yellow 
 house, where it seemed as though a funeral was 
 about being " performed," and one of the doctor's 
 own victims was about being carried out. 
 
 Heavy coaches, with solemn horses, and drivers
 
 308 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 buried in capes, seemed to be bivouacking in tlie 
 street ; only they appeared to be mourning-coaches 
 with h'ghts, and it was to be an iUuminated fune- 
 ral. Solemn footmen, who seemed yet larger in 
 stature from the darkness, hung about the steps. 
 These gentlemen set down the little lady, who 
 tripped courageously from the cab and went up 
 the steps, as the young lady who was to super- 
 intend the " Hice." It was the same "gentle- 
 man" who had opened the door to the captain that 
 opened the door now to her. He had a large 
 experience of human nature ; drawn from the hu- 
 man nature that came between two and four — the 
 doctor's hours ; and saw at a glance that she was 
 a good deal above " Hice." When she told him 
 what she wanted, he shook his head, — almost 
 laughed. Then the soft influence of the captain's 
 half-crown, still down in the plush-regions, seemed 
 to bring back quiet and subdued tones. " Keally 
 it can't be done, miss. Sir Duncan 'ud pack 
 me off in the morning. There's great company, 
 there, from the 'Ousehold," he added with mys- 
 tery. " Better come in the morning, miss ; first 
 thing." 
 
 But she was now well in the hall. She had 
 found a new courage that made her do things that 
 surprised herself, from the force of her absorbing 
 passion. At this moment came a burst, and a roar
 
 AN EXPEDITION". 309 
 
 of confused and hilarious voices rushing out. The 
 " gentlemen" were going up ; and the alarmed 
 servant almost pushed her aside out of sight, and 
 then hurried away himself. 
 
 The noisy procession trailed up in a kind of 
 affectionate order, for two, and sometimes three, 
 seemed interlaced together in a 'Sviney" way, 
 and a tall, thin gentleman, with a flat back to his 
 head, and a high collar to blue coat and gilt but- 
 tons, broke from one of these combinations, and, 
 to Alice's alarm, came down again towards the 
 front parlour to fetch something out of his coat. 
 She was shrinking behind the door, and a clarety 
 aroma foretold that he was coming. She could 
 hardly get out of the way without showing herself 
 to the others, and in great affright, knew not what 
 to do, when the tall gentleman started back Avith 
 a loud " God bless my soul !" 
 
 He looked amiable and good-natured, and, with 
 a confidence almost childish, she ran to him and 
 said : " 0, sir ! you can help us here. He is dying 
 —ill " 
 
 ^' God bless me again ! Dying ! who ?" 
 
 ^' Mr. Tillotson. Don't you know?" she said 
 impatiently. '' They wish to have this great doc- 
 tor, and have sent me. A word from you and he 
 will come." 
 
 *' Tillotson dying, and I never heard! How
 
 310 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 wonderful are the ways ! Ai-e you sure, my 
 child ?" he said, with as much concern as was 
 consistent with a pleasant saturation of cheerful 
 claret. 
 
 " yes, sir," she said, " and we are losing 
 time. If you would only ask the great doctor." 
 
 " I'll do it ; leave it all to me. Dear me, poor 
 Tillotson ! And here we are merry-making in 
 there, over real '54 claret, while a fellow-creature 
 
 — formed to His image Leave it all to me." 
 
 And he hurried off. 
 
 The way in which he imparted his news to 
 his host Avas not unskilful. He came in myste- 
 riously. 
 
 " My dear Dennison," he said, "■ I don't like 
 this — pretty girl waiting below — private interview. 
 Seriously, though, a dear, amiable, dying poor- 
 devil, without a friend in the world. Only think ! 
 that has endeared every single creature on the 
 face of God's earth to him by simple unostenta- 
 tious charity — simple unostentatious charity ! To 
 think of that man lying on his bed of death, and 
 without a mother's son that cares — tuppence for 
 him. Called to his account in the ledger, — there's 
 what we all come to, Sir Duncan — the great, 
 the pious, and the good — and leave not a rack 
 behind !" 
 
 Not conscious of the extraordinary contradic-
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 311 
 
 tions in this statement, Mr. Tilney led Sir Duncan 
 down. Sir Duncan was an elderly man and an 
 old beauj and was not at all displeased at the im- 
 putation of the visit from the "pretty girl.'' A 
 portly gentleman, all rich pink and staring white 
 (pink in his face, white in his waistcoat), seemed 
 to come out of a cloud before her. She threw 
 back a httle hood she wore, told her story eagerly, 
 and came up very satisfactorily to the description 
 Mr. Tilney had given of her. 
 
 "What do you want now, my dear?" said 
 the Queen's physician. " You see I have got 
 friends here." 
 
 " 0, sir, I know that, and I don't know what 
 you will think of me. But he is ill — is dying, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " Well, my dear, there are a good many dying 
 about us here ; but if we were to take to leaving 
 our dinners for them, we'd be soon dying our- 
 selves, my dear. And who's he ?" 
 
 He was all moist with good humour, this 
 Queen's physician, under the influence of the fa- 
 mous " bin." 
 
 " Ah, sir, if you would be so kind, just for a 
 moment, as uncle Diamond says — a mere touch 
 of vom' little finger would do — a dreadful nervous 
 fever — " 
 
 Through aU the claret this favourite subject,
 
 312 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 and the implied compliment to liis reputation, 
 came. Nervous fever was liis weak point. Won- 
 derfully accomplished as he was in that depart- 
 ment, he yet needed a few little touches. 
 
 ^^ Is it far from here ?" he asked, getting 
 his hat. 
 
 " Then you'll come ?" said she, joyfully. " 0, 
 how kind — how good of you ! He is saved !" 
 
 He looked at her a moment through the pink 
 clarety film. A comic twinkle came into the moist 
 eyes. " Ah ! I see," he said, and began to repeat, 
 ^'The little part, That's called the heart— Nice 
 doings, egad !" 
 
 She coloured up. " No, no — indeed, sir, it is 
 not that." 
 
 " Not what?" he asked with pretended asto- 
 nishment. " Ah, little rogue ! Come along. Cab 
 here. All right. John, whisper Mr. Tilney that 
 I'll be back in twenty minutes." 
 
 Captain Diamond, travelling about in his cab 
 seeking his friend Gilpin, had come back unsuccess- 
 ful to his friend's rooms. He was met at the door 
 by the porter, with great disquiet in his face. '' The 
 poor gentleman is getting worse, sir. I was going 
 ofp to you, sir ; for the apothecary says he seems 
 to be in a sinking state like, and we must get in a 
 doctor at once."
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 6L6 
 
 " Eun then, like a good lad," said the captain ; 
 '' or take my cab." 
 
 The porter got his hat, opened the swinging 
 door, and at that instant held it back, for another 
 cab had driven up rapidly, and a gentleman with 
 a white tie, and dressed for a party, had jmnped 
 out ; had also helped out a little lady. The cap- 
 tain looked wistfully. 
 
 " Hope they're going to have no fiddling or 
 that sort of thing to-night. Poor Tillotson " 
 
 The florid gentleman, dressed for the party, 
 had come up to him. '' I want to see Mr. Til- 
 lotson. Does he " 
 
 " 0, uncle !" said the little girl, running to 
 him. 
 
 "Why, Grod — bless — my — soul!" said the 
 captain, in the blankest astonishment. 
 
 " Uncle, uncle," she went on, " this is Sir 
 Duncan Dennison, and he is come from his 
 dinner-party. 0, so kindly ! And, uncle, he has 
 promised to make him well again." 
 
 " If it's a nervous fever — that is," said he 
 gravely. " Come, I hope there's no mistake." 
 
 " The Queen's physician, eh?" said the cap- 
 tain, half stupified, and peering close into his 
 face, as if that would have satisfied him of his 
 identity. 
 
 "Ah ! Come, come," said the other impatiently
 
 314 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 (he felt the east wind at that moment through his 
 cambric shirt, and began to think he had done 
 a ridiculous thing), '^ I can't waste time here. 
 Show me this fever." 
 
 He was taken up and brought in to the 
 patient. He studied the poor wasted, tossing 
 figure before him critically. He put his head on 
 one side, looked round at a crevice over the door 
 with extraordinary vacancy of expression ; then, 
 with the same curious vacancy, smoothed some 
 creases out of his dress-trousers. 
 
 The captain, peering well forward, and sup- 
 ported on the shorter of his two limbs, gazed at 
 each of these proceedings as if they were to be 
 part of the cure. " Well, doctor," he said nerv- 
 ously, when they had been all a reasonable time 
 in silence — " well, doctor ?" 
 
 But he was motioned into silence. Finally, 
 Sir Duncan looked at his watch. " Lord bless 
 me, how late it is ! I must go now." 
 
 '' But well, doctor," said the captain, still peer- 
 ing, " what d'ye say?" 
 
 " Give me a pen, some one," said Sir Duncan, 
 " and don't speak while I am writing. I am 
 going to order strong poisons, and a few grains, 
 you know, make all the difference." 
 
 The captain was secretly aghast at this declara- 
 tion, the bearing of which he could not under-
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 315 
 
 stand; but he assumed — as, indeed, this amiable 
 old warrior always did — that the fault was with 
 his own dull faculties, and, smiling on Sir Duncan 
 in cordial approval of his alarming practice, limped 
 over to the bed. 
 
 " Get that done," cried Sir Duncan, " at once. 
 Grood night, little lady. You brought me out in 
 an awful night. No matter : you were right, and 
 I wouldn't have missed it for a fifty-pound note. 
 It's the true stuff." 
 
 " 0, sir, but will he recover?" * 
 
 '^ We'll see in the morning. I'll bring Slader 
 with me from the hospital. Like to see what he 
 can say to this. It'll be a slap in the face to him. 
 It's positively beautiful ; and, my dear child, you 
 didn't deceive me — this is the true thing. Good 
 night." 
 
 He was gone. Perfectly bewildered, the cap- 
 tain stood looking after him. 
 
 " What did he say, my dear, about being 
 beautiful ? I'm a little hard o' hearing." 
 
 '^ I don't know, nunkey," she said, somewhat 
 troubled; " I couldn't make him out; but he's to 
 be here the first thing in the morning." 
 
 ^' Ah, yes, yes, the creature !" said the cap- 
 tain ; '' and, egad, my dear, did you remark he 
 seemed greatly pleased ?" 
 
 " 0, yes, nunkey," she said with pleasure, " so
 
 316 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 lie was ; but," she added, falling into despondency 
 again, " it was more with me, I'm afraid, nunkey. 
 But didn't he tell you, when you were with him in 
 the room?" 
 
 ^^ Ah, to be sure," said the captain, with great 
 boldness and readiness; ''so he did. He said he 
 was in a fine way to recover, and would be on 
 his legs and driving out in a job -carriage on 
 Sunday next." 
 
 " Ah ! Did he say that ?" she said joyfully. 
 
 " On my oath he did," the captain said ear- 
 nestly — " honour bright ! And now, little woman, 
 we may go home. He is in good hands here, I 
 know, with Mrs. Pidger. I hope they keep you 
 comfortable here, Mrs. Pidger ; and if there's any 
 thing you like, I hope you'll say so." The cap- 
 tain's fingers had drawn out the little steel bag 
 purse. 
 
 Going home in the cab (it was getting on to 
 twelve), the captain said: "You must be tired, 
 pet. Ye did a wonderful deal for that poor fellow; 
 and a poor old botch like me, I couldn't have 
 managed it — no, indeed. Let Tom alone for never 
 helping a soul. Mine's the will, but not the way 
 —eh, pet?" 
 
 " Nonsense, uncle," she said, putting her face 
 forward to kiss him. 
 
 " Ah, you little cosherer !" said the captain.
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 317 
 
 " You have eyes, though, aud can see. Are you 
 cold? Muffle yourself up. Get on, sir," said the 
 captain, with assumed fierceness. '^ You're not 
 going the regulation pace. D'y® ^^^^^ ^"^^^ ^ ^^^^ 
 I tell you what," the captain added, putting the 
 shovel-hat out of the window, "your cab's not in 
 a fit state, sir: there's a hole in the door here." 
 Then his voice fell again into the old soft key so 
 natural to him. " Ah, you like him, pet? I see 
 it with half an eye ; and, upon my conscience, I 
 like you for it — I do, for he's as fine a man as 
 ever stej)ped, and I don't wonder you love him, 
 my dear." 
 
 " 0, uncle !" she said. 
 
 " Nonsense !" he went on. " Surely you don't 
 mind me no more than a priest — I was going to 
 say an old woman, but Tom's not come to that yet; 
 and I can tell you Tillotson has his eyes open, such 
 as he is, and knows when a pretty girl likes him — 
 ay, indeed." 
 
 " 0, uncle, what do you mean?" she half fal- 
 tered. Had there been light, he would have seen 
 her blushing. 
 
 " There, you shiver again, my dear. Confound 
 this cab-fellow ! I'll summons him in the morning. 
 I could tell you something I heard the other night 
 when the poor fellow was lying tossing and saying 
 little scraps of talk to himself. He opened his eyes
 
 318 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 and fixed them on me, just as you might ; then he 
 gave a moan that went to my heart --so it did. 
 ^ What ails you, my poor fellow ?' I said. ' All is 
 lost/ he rej)lied. ' It was a foolish dream, and 
 she never can be mine ! She does not care for me, 
 and never did. All is lost !' I remember those 
 words, and got them by heart in my bed. ' All is 
 lost !' says he. And though I knew he couldn't 
 know what I was talking of, I couldn't help telling 
 him to cheer up, for she did love him ; and that 
 Tom knew, and knows it now." 
 
 " 0, uncle," the yomig girl repeated again, 
 '' what can you mean ?" 
 
 '^ I mean that's what the poor fellow has got 
 ill on. He has had a struggle, and it's worried 
 him into this fit." 
 
 " Ah, nunkey, how can you know, it is about 
 me ? He has met plenty of others." 
 
 This view staggered the captain for a moment ; 
 but he recovered himself. "Didn't I hear him 
 mention your nice little name, though — eh?" 
 
 " My name? No, no." 
 
 " On my oath, yes," said the captain ; " I give 
 you my word of honour — not a word o' lie in it. 
 0, I wouldn't say it !" Alas, this was another of 
 the captain's venial untruths. " ' Yes,' says he, 
 as plain as I am speaking now, ' 0, how I love 
 her, and she must be mine !' " Mr. Tillotson had
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 319 
 
 never used this form of ejaculation ; but a passage 
 from one of the old novels drifted across, the 
 captain's brain, and seemed to him highly appro- 
 priate, and even elegant. 
 
 Had Mr. Tillotson indeed made some such dis- 
 ordered allusion, but was it to another name and 
 to another lady ? 
 
 When they arrived home it was midnight. 
 The gloomy Martha Malcolm, grim and terrible, 
 met them at the door " This is nice gadding 
 about," she said ; ^^ an' you're fit for goin out at 
 night?" 
 
 " Once and away, Mrs. Malcolm, you know," 
 said the captain, in high good humour. 
 
 " I have no fault with you, captain ; but she, 
 will be neither said nor led. You ought to be 
 ashamed, miss. You're getting old enough now to 
 have sense." 
 
 " Ah, then, she has sense, I can tell you, 
 Martha. More than the full of our two old heads ; 
 that is, I mean," he added, a little confused, '' of 
 this old head — Tom's, you know, my dear. 
 Why, Mrs. Malcolm, you could be my daughter, 
 let alone my niece. But she knows what she's 
 about, Mrs. Malcolm, and had a little business 
 to-night." 
 
 " Hush, uncle," said the girl, rushing upstairs. 
 Mrs. Malcolm came grumbling on behind.
 
 320 THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. 
 
 " Business, indeed ! Going after a whining, 
 sickly, puling creetur. He's not half a man ; his 
 head all the time drivellin' over another girl." 
 
 ^^ No, no," said the captain, alarmed at this 
 allusion ; "you are a little out there." 
 
 " Maybe I am," said the other coldly, " but I 
 know better all the time. But surely, cap' en, you 
 should liave the sense not to be dragging a thing 
 of that sort, with a chest no thicker than my mus- 
 lin cap, about the town at this hour of the night. 
 Do you feel that wind ? Listen ! I shouldn't 
 wonder if it was her death." 
 
 END OF VOL. T. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 EOBSON AND SON, GKEAT NORTHERN PRINTING WORKS, 
 
 PANCRAS KOAD, N.W.