********************START OF HEADER********************
This text has been proofread but is not guaranteed to be free from errors. Corrections to the original text have been left in place.
Title: The Senior Partner, an electronic edition
Author: Riddell, J.H., Mrs., 1832-1906
Publisher: James Hogg
Place published: London
Date: 1882
********************END OF HEADER********************
THE SENIOR PARTNERPublisher information included in the front of Riddell's The Senior Partner.THE SENIOR PARTNERA NovelBY MRS. J. H. RIDDELLAUTHOR
OF 'GEORGE GEITH,' 'CITY AND SUBURB,' 'THE MYSTERY IN PALACE
GARDENS,' ETC.LONDON: JAMES HOGG22 EXETER STREET, STRAND1882[All Rights Reserved]Table of contents for Riddell's The Senior Partner.Table of contents for Riddell's The Senior Partner.THE SENIOR PARTNER.
CHAPTER I.
MR. ROBERT M'CULLAGH.JUST out of Basinghall-street, at the end of an unnamed court, there stands a house which must have been old even at the commencement of the present century. So far the march of improvement has passed it by. There remains probably some fag-end of a lease, or a difficulty regarding adjoining property; for otherwise there can be little doubt it would have been swept off the face of the earth long ago, and the 'valuable site' it now occupies covered with new offices, chambers, or warehouses; there are plenty of all to be let close at hand, as there are, indeed, in every street and alley in the heart of London. But the modern builder is as insatiable as the grave! He never sees an ancient edifice without longing to destroy it. Churches and churchyards, abbeys, palaces, castles, cottages, give him his own way, and he would swallow them all. He is the nineteenth-century Dragon of Wantley, and it may be that even at this present moment of writing he has looked upon the old house hard by Basinghall-street, and marked it for his own.A very old house, and one which, though it has been used this many a day for business purposes, still, with its wide staircase, its heavy balusters, its handrail about a foot square, its fine hall and noble rooms, appeals mutely against the purposes to which it has been turned, and reminds the visitor of a time when guests trooped up the easy steps, and a dignified hospitality rendered it an honoured abode in the eyes of citizens living in the many localities once considered choice, before railways were invented and all the world went gadding.In the year of grace 1854 it had, however, for more than a

quarter of a century been occupied by a wholesale dealer in Scotch confectionery--marmalades, biscuits, and other edibles of a like tempting and toothsome description.Nearly all the ground-floor and basement was devoted to the requirements of business; the rest of the house was used for a dwelling. There Mr. Robert McCullagh--'plain old Rab,' as he sometimes called himself--had made and saved a considerable amount of money; he had established for himself a reputation; he had seen four sons grow to manhood, and started three of them out in the world; he had lost his wife; and he had lived with great contentment on a very small sum per annum.To turn from Basinghall-street into the court, which led to the old house, was like plunging from light to darkness--a sudden chill seemed to freeze the marrow, even on a warm summer's day, when the main thoroughfare was left and the passage entered. Not a gleam of sunshine ever irradiated the first portion of the way; but after a short distance, the court, turning sharply to the left, suddenly widened and revealed an opening like a tiny square, where four old houses stood side by side, forgotten apparently by the external, busy, bustling world.'As much to yourself as if you were on the top of Ben Nevis,' said Mr. McCullagh, in eulogy of his residence. 'There may be grander places in London, I do not dispute that; but more comfortable? no, not within or without the bills of mortality.'If contentment can insure happiness, Mr. McCullagh might be accounted a happy man. He was contented with his house, his business, his native land, London, the city of his adoption, and last, but not least, himself. In the course of his whole life he might have made a mistake or two, he was not 'just sure;' but we are all liable to make mistakes, and he had fallen into fewer errors than his fellows. He did not desire a better trade, or a better house, or anything he had not got or could not get; it provoked him to hear people say they wanted this, that, and the other, instead of being satisfied with their lot, and plodding along quietly and contentedly.'The silent sow,' remarked Mr. McCullagh, reverting to the ingenious simile of earlier days, 'sups the most brose; and when ye hear a man grumbling for what Providence has not seen fit to give him, ye can aye tell pretty nearly what the end of that man will be.'It was towards this palace of content, this retired abode, so suited for a contemplative life, that one dreary November day a gentleman walked briskly, and with a certain eager brightness in his face which might have told any passer-by his thoughts were of the pleasantest.And yet, nevertheless, there came every now and then over the brightness a certain anxious expression which obscured the joy, as a passing cloud sometimes dims the sunshine.He had good news to tell; but not perfectly unalloyed. He could not exactly pre-determine how what he wanted to say might be received. Mr. McCullagh, having been the architect of his own fortune, was sometimes given to look disparagingly on the edifices erected, and in course of erection, by others.The great hall-door stood hospitably open, and the gentleman walked straight into an office partitioned off and divided into a number of separate boxes for desks and clerks.Going up to one of these, and putting his head over the railing, he asked an o1d man who was busily employed in bookkeeping,'Is my father in, Mr. Roy?'Mr. Roy was at the moment engaged in ruling two red lines at the bottom of a money column, and did not take the slightest notice of either the question or the questioner till he had finished what he was about; then, wiping his pen on a piece of rag which hung suspended by a bit of cord from the handle of one of the drawers, he answered slowly,'Ay, Mr. Robert, you'll find him up above.''Is he at dinner?' inquired Mr. Robert.'Well, he did speak of taking a bite,' was the cautious concession.With an impatient gesture the younger man turned from the desk, and walked out of the silent office, throwing an irritable glance around as he went. Everything in it was Scotch, deeply, darkly, beautifully Scotch, from the cheek-bones of the errand-boy whom he encountered on the threshold of the counting-house, to Mr. Roy, who might, judging from his accent, have only arrived from the Land o' Cakes on the previous evening.He went slowly up the wide easy steps of the oak staircase, the gloom of the November afternoon seeming to follow and deepen around him the higher he ascended, and came to a heavy door, likewise of oak, at which he knocked gently.'Come in!' cried a sharp clear voice; and thus bidden, the young man entered.As he opened the door, a girl who had been playing 'Di tanti palpitti' with labouring earnestness upon a decrepit piano, several of the notes in which were dumb, rose from a music-stool as rickety as the instrument; and at the same moment a homely-looking person, who acted as housekeeper in Mr. McCullagh's establishment, exclaimed in a tone of some surprise,'Why, it's Robert!''So it is, I declare!' said Mr. McCullagh. 'You're just in time for a bit of dinner; it will be set on in a minute.''I have dined, thank you,' answered the person called Robert, advancing towards the hearth, and trying to make head against the gloom, which the mere spark of fire burning in the grate seemed to deepen rather than decrease, 'an hour and more ago.''O, come, that won't do,' returned his father; 'luncheon, or a snack, not dinner, ye know.''All the dinner I ever have, at any rate,' said the young man, looking with eyes which could not conceal their discontent at the meagre appointments of Mr. McCullagh's table, on which a wench, with her sleeves tucked up, was placing a piece of roast beef that had been, as the housekeeper explained, 'hotted up,' some smoking potatoes, and a dish of greens.'Will I light a candle?' asked the housekeeper; and having received a gracious assent from Mr. McCullagh, the simple preparations were complete.'Draw your chair, Robert; you'll take a glass of ale, at any rate?' suggested his father.'I'll take a glass of ale, thank you,' assented Robert, drawing his chair as invited, but employing himself somewhat irreverently the while a blessing was being requested, scrutinising the knives and forks he could remember from the time he was a child.No new-fangled things were ever to be found in that house. The handles of the knives were green, and the blades worn down to half their original length; the forks, likewise green-handled, were steel-pronged; the plate German silver; the dishes commonest delf; the solitary candlestick brass; the table-linen coarse; the service of the roughest.'Well, Effie, and how does the music get on?' asked the young man, addressing the young girl, who sat opposite to him.'Middlin',' she answered; she was Scotch too.'Her teacher says she is getting on well,' said Mr. McCullagh,

wrestling with the joint, which had got somewhat dried in the process of re-roasting. 'I am thinkin', Janet,' he went on, addressing his housekeeper, 'Mary has let the meat burn a wee.''She has so,' agreed Miss Nicol, 'but it is not easy to prevent that. It might have been better to hash the beef, but I thought you were tired of hash.''Tired! me tired!' echoed Mr. McCullagh; 'what are ye thinking about, Janet? I do not turn up my nose at good food. I can mind the time when I found it hard enough to get any.'If this remark was intended as a reflection on his son--which is open to doubt, since the worthy merchant had a general as well as particular manner of delivering such utterances--it did not produce any apparent effect. The younger Robert had heard too many statements of the kind in former times to attach much weight to them now. He stared into the dim distance whilst the dialogue proceeded, looking as much an anachronism amongst his own relations--both Miss Nicol and Effie were some far-away connections of the McCullaghs--as Mr. McCullagh and his household belongings did amongst the decaying splendours of that ancient mansion.The architect of his own fortune was a small mean-looking man, with straight sandy hair, a shrewd shrewish nose, eyes so light as to be almost colourless, a face perfectly clean save for freckles, a wide mouth, a long upper lip, and a forehead moderately high. His son, on the contrary, had dark hair which curled a little naturally, dark eager eyes shaded by lashes so long as to give at times an almost womanish expression to his face; his upper lip was short, his mouth almost weak, his whiskers large; he looked about a head taller than his father, and was about half as broad again. He carried himself well, spoke well, had mixed in the world, and adopted its usages and modes of expression; yet the elder McCullagh had more sense in his little finger than the younger in his whole body, and the old man, so called, not because he was actually old, but merely to distinguish him from the juniors of his family, as heartily despised his first-born for his paucity of brains as his son despised him for his want of polish.There ensued a short silence. Mr. McCullagh helped himself plentifully to vegetables ere pushing the dishes over to his female belongings, and devoted himself to his frugal dinner as though it had been an aldermanic feast. Miss Nicol and her

niece ate the driest and most burnt portions of the meat, and made no attempts at conversation. Robert was a complete wet blanket in that house; just as effectually as the family damped his spirits did he depress theirs. Between himself and his father there yawned a gulf almost as long and as wide as the whole term of his natural existence; and though peace had for years prevailed so far as angry word or hot controversy, it seemed, to say the least of the matter, unlikely that the chasm would ever be bridged over now.The silence was broken by Mr. McCullagh taking up the beer-jug and peering curiously at its contents; after that scrutiny he set it down again, and said,'Maybe, Robert, ye would take a dash of whisky instead of the ale. This seems to be almost the last of the barrel.''Thank you,' answered his son. 'I should prefer the whisky.''I think myself ale is apt to lie cold on the stomach,' remarked Mr. McCullagh, pushing the despised beverage over to Miss Nicol, who accepted the beer as she had taken the chips of roast beef. 'Effie, get out the bottle like a good girl, will ye?' he added, presenting her with the key of the garde-du-vin, which he always kept safe and sound in his own pocket, trusting the custody of it, save for a minute, as on the present occasion, neither to man, woman, nor child.'Take more, take more,' he cried, as his son poured a very small modicum into his tumbler, and prepared to fill up the glass with water. 'What's the good of spoiling prime liquor in that way?'Nothing loth, perhaps, the younger man availed himself of this invitation; possibly he was not sorry to fortify his own spirits with Dutch courage. His father watched him, and said, 'That's right;' for there chanced to be one point on which Mr. McCullagh could be not merely liberal, but generous, and that was 'Usquebagh.'He grudged a penny wherewith to buy matches, but he opened gallon jars of whisky in a manner as genial as remarkable.And no better 'wheskey,' as he called it, ever came south. How he got it, from whom, and whence, were secrets Mr. McCullagh trusted not to man born of woman. He knew the weakness inherent in man's nature from that origin, and was quite of opinion that 'three people might keep a matter quiet if two were away.''You are dining earlier, are you not, father?' asked his son, who certainly had not intended to make a fourth at the social board.'It's sooner than my usual,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'I keep to five o'clock now, as I took to five o'clock when I first started in business on my own account, as the best hour at which a man engaged in trade can dine in London. The banks close at four; all the letters should be ready for posting; it's just the most suitable time in every way that can be found; but it so happens to-day I want to go to Holborn to see Kenneth.''Is he in town?' asked Mr. Robert McCullagh junior, without any special elation of voice or manner, though Kenneth was his brother. 'Ay, he's in town,' answered Mr. McCullagh, 'with his father-in-law that's to be.''What! is Kenneth going to be married?' said Robert, surprised.'Have ye no heard of it?' exclaimed Miss Nicol, with a visible increase of animation. 'Why, we knew three days ago.''He hasn't written to me for three weeks,' was the reply.'It wasn't settled then,' explained Mr. McCullagh, 'but it is now.''Who is she?' inquired his son, with a faint show of interest.'The daughter of his master--no less,' said Mr. McCullagh, repressed glee visible in every feature. 'Kenneth, as ye know, was aye canny, but, my faith, he has done weel for himself now. She is not only, as I am given to understand, a weel-favoured young woman, but she does not come to him with an empty hand. How much fortune do ye suppose her father is going to settle on her when they come together? Just give a guess, Robert;' the first portion of which Christian name, it may be remarked, the Scotch merchant pronounced as if it were an exclusively French production.The junior Robert, affecting an interest in the matter he did not feel, said it was impossible for him to guess: would his father, he suggested, give some clue?'What would ye say to five hundred pounds?' asked Mr. McCullagh, 'putting himself forward,' as he expressed it, 'for a help of cheese,' and 'breaking a bittock' off the oat-cake, both of which luxuries Mary now placed upon the table, in

addition to a pat of butter, printed, possibly by some one possessed of a fine sense of irony, with the image of a cow. 'What would ye say to five hundred?' and Mr. McCullagh, relishing with an exceeding delight the exquisite humour of this question, winked across at Miss Nicol as he propounded it for the second time.Robert junior saw the wink, and knew there was something behind; nevertheless he answered boldly,'Why, I should say five hundred was a very good dot for a fellow in Kenneth's position.''And if I went up a figure or two higher--suppose to seven fifty?''That Kenneth may count himself very lucky,' said the elder son; 'I am sure I wish him joy.''And so ye may, my lad,' cried Mr. McCullagh, measuring himself out a certain allowance of whisky, which was his regular custom, though he sometimes, often indeed, supplemented that certain allowance with 'an eke.' 'So ye may. Kenneth is to have three thousand pounds down with her, that is settled upon his good wife, ye understand.''An that's not all ye have to tell, Mister McCullagh,' here broke in Miss Nicol jubilantly, the while Robert was engaged in following Charles Lamb's example, and damning the unknown woman at a venture,--'that's not all; there's more to the back of it.''Do you mean more money?' asked Robert, looking in amazement from one to the other.'Money's worth, money's worth,' said Mr. McCullagh complacently; 'there's, as I have said, three thousand to be tied up on the wife, and Kenneth is to be taken into pairtnership.'Robert sat for a moment literally dumfounded. If any one save his father had told him such a tale he would have said it was not true, and even as matters stood he could scarcely credit the evidence of his own ears. If it were so, how would his father receive the news he had a couple of hours before considered so good? There must be some hitch--the thing was not possible.'But I always thought his master was in a large way of business,' he ventured after that moment's pause.'So he is; he has a fine trade.''Then if that be the case, what is Kenneth to put in?''Just himself: no more, no less.''No money?''Deil a halfpenny. Ye see, the way of it's this,' and Mr. McCullagh, pushing his chair a little way from the table, waxed confidential: 'old Johnstone's not so young as he was, say, fifty year ago, and he begins to feel that. He has no son to take his place, and the business is getting a trifle too much for him. There is only the one daughter, and she has a fancy for Kenneth. The old man sees what Kenneth has in him, and considers she might go a good deal further and fare a good deal worse. So, to cut a long story short, they talked and they better talked the matter over; and the upshot of it all is, Kenneth is to marry the daughter and take the management of the Liverpool business, while the father and mother go to Glasgow; they're Scotch, as ye're aware.'I could have sworn it!' thought Robert viciously, but he only said aloud he had not been aware of the fact.'That's strange,' commented Mr. McCullagh; 'but to be sure, you and Kenneth never did stable your horses well together. However, to return to what I was saying, Mister and Mistress Johnstone go to Glasgow to spend the evening of their days among their own people (he has a branch house at Glasgow now), and the young wife and Kenneth will bide at Liverpool. It is a great chance for a beginner like him. Here's health and prosperity to them both, anyway;' and Mr. McCullagh drained his tumbler in indication of his sincerity.'Here's health and prosperity to them both,' repeated Miss Nicol, sipping a little ale.'Health and prosperity,' murmured Effie, almost in a whisper, to her glass of water.'I am sure I wish them every happiness,' said Robert, following his father's example; but feeling at the same time he wished them nothing of the kind, and that the tidings he had just heard were gall and wormwood to him.'When will ye be coming to tell us something of the same sort, Robert?' asked Miss Nicol, with as much sly jauntiness as she could possibly induce her manner to assume.'O, there's time enough,' Mr. McCullagh answered for him benignantly.'I came here to-day to tell you something, sir,' said Robert, seizing this opportunity of speaking ere his courage oozed away altogether. 'I thought it pretty good news, but of course yours altogether dwarfs mine.''What is it like ?' inquired Mr. McCullagh, drawing cautiously back into his shell as he asked the question, and drop-

ping the almost convivial tone he had adopted. 'Are ye going to be married too, Robert?''No, sir, I am not-at least, not at present.''When is it to be?' asked his parent.'I am sure I do not know,' answered the young man. 'I must first find the lady.''Then what was it ye came here to tell me?''When you have quite finished your dinner I wish you would give me five minutes alone.''There is nothing to prevent your speaking out now,' answered Mr. McCullagh severely. 'We have no secrets among us in this house.''Still, sir--' began Robert.'Well, well, if it must be so,' interrupted his father impatiently; and seizing the candle, and, without a word of apology, leaving Miss Nicol and her niece in a darkness scarcely relieved by a gleam of firelight, he led the way down the wide staircase to a room on the ground-floor, muttering as he did so the encouraging words, 'Pack o' nonsense!CHAPTER II.
MR. M'CULLAGH'S ANTECEDENTS.ACCIDENT had a larger share in compassing Mr. McCullagh's worldly prosperity than that gentleman would have cared to acknowledge.By this it is not meant that he might not have succeeded, no matter in what manner of craft he had essayed to brave the business seas. He was scarcely the man to sink in any waters; but it is open to question whether in other lines of life he would have done so well as chanced to be the case amongst jampots and casks of 'sweeties.'He did not enter on the commercial voyage with any definite idea--or any idea, in fact, at all--of trading in Scotch goods. When he started for London he had no settled plan whatever, except to find a certain uncle Robert, who had done well for himself amongst the Southerners, and no convictions save that Greenock was too small for him, and that it was better to begin the business struggle unencumbered by the proximity of needy relations.His father, the son of a right honest weaver at Paisley, who had brought up a large family on the slenderest of means, was a shopkeeper in a very small way at Greenock. Few things of a humble sort but were sold in that general shop--marbles and meal, candles and comfits, pork and pickles, salt herrings and stationery, butter and biscuits, threads and tea, to say nothing of salt, sugar, needles, pins, tape, gingerbread, flour, treacle, and all the hundred items the poor require daily, and most of which they can buy in penn'orths.Early and late both father and mother worked, but all the could make barely served to keep the wolf from the door. They had to give credit or lose their customers, and sometimes the customers were dishonest, sometimes unfortunate; therefore, what with bad debts and the keep of many children, the Greenock dealer found himself unable to get much before the world.In the family annals frequent mention was made of a certain uncle Robert, who, being a 'sperrity chiel,' had done 'richt weel,' and sent his father and mother down now and again pound notes and presents of tea, flannel, coats, and such-like.He had walked every step of the way to the English metropolis. He 'took the notion' one fine day of trying his luck, and, starting with about ninepence in his pocket, literally 'worked' his journey to London. No job had been too hot or too heavy for this resolute boy; his adventures, so said his friends, with more truth than is generally to be found in the statements of friends, would have filled a book. Steadily he tramped on, refusing all offers of employment by the road, save such as supplied his daily need, till he reached London footsore, penniless, friendless.Ere long, however, he got his chance--that chance which, 'tis said, comes once to every man-and improved it. 'And now,' observed his relations, 'he is quite a gentleman, has a big house and servants of his own, and is married to a minister's daughter.'It may have been that these descriptions of wealth and distinction won in the vague English land fired the imagination of the younger Robert; or that, to use the idea common enough amongst the lower Irish, he 'strained after his namesake.' Anyhow, whatever the cause, the result was quite certain: Robert, the son of David, the son of Andrew, after carefully considering the result of all his parents' so early rising and so late taking rest, came to the conclusion he would follow his uncle Robert's example, and make London the richer and Scotland the poorer by one leal man.He did not, however, leave the paternal home in like case, and with as little preparation.He announced his intention, and was made somewhat a hero of in consequence. He wrote to his uncle when he might expect the felicity of seeing his kinsman. The whole family prepared presents wherewith to propitiate the Joseph who had gone down into Egypt. One remembered how fond Rab had been of this, and another how much 'Roebert' had thought of that. By some means a good-sized hamper was filled, and the younger Roebert instructed how to produce these productions of fair Scotia by degrees, so as to allow no single delicacy to pass unnoticed--shortbread, mutton hams, hung beef, 'Finnan haddies,' some excellent marmalade, splendid current jelly,

cheese made from goats' milk, and various other specialties which all the McCullagh connection had contributed, to say nothing of some prime whisky--got one night on board the Belfast steamer at Greenock, and was carried away from the banks of the Clyde for ever. Arran and Ailsa faded from view, and Mr. Robert McCullagh, dreadfully seasick, disappeared likewise, and was seen no more till a wan semblance of himself appeared as the Scotch steamer made her way past Carrickfergus Castle.The young fellow, who was known and trusted in his native town, carried commissions with him to Belfast, Dublin, and London that more than recouped all he had to spend on the roundabout sea-voyage; and, so far, the advantage was with him over his more adventurous relative.On the other hand, he missed many an experience his namesake found useful in his after life, and arrived in London as ignorant and as prejudiced as when he walked across the gangway from the quay to the steamer's deck at Greenock.If, in the course of events, it had so occurred that his uncle could have given the raw young Scotchman a start in life, his career had never been chronicled in these pages.He would have commenced his London experiences under totally different auspices: been found a desk, if not in his uncle's office, at least in the office of some acquaintance, where he would have thought himself lucky if he gained an advance of ten pounds. a year, and succeeded at thirty to the post and salary of manager, or gained such a connection as would enable him, with the help of what he might have saved and a fair amount of credit, to start on his own account.This is most probably what would have occurred had he found the person he expected ready to greet his arrival in London. It is what happens to most steady young men who come to the City to make their fortune. They fall into a certain groove and continue in it. The element of chance enters very little into their subsequent success or failure; men travel through life when a beaten road is pointed out for them to take; they explore life when thrown on their own resources in a strange place, without a single soul to say, 'This is your way.'Young McCullagh, when he arrived in London, found himself in a very unknown region indeed, and placed in a very difficult position; he had calculated upon his uncle's assistance, and behold his uncle was dead. He had been buried

four days before Robert, arrayed in his best suit of clothes, the cut of which could not be considered fashionable, walked into the office in Benet's-hill and asked to see him.'I am afraid ye can't do that,' answered a middle-aged man, in accents which struck home to Robert's heart as broadly delightfully Scotch, 'for he's deid.'Robert staggered back.'Deid!' he repeated next instant incredulously; 'ye're jokin'.'''Deed I am not; what for would I joke? It is not much of a joke to him, I'm a-thinking.'From which remark it need not be inferred the speaker felt many fear concerning his late principal's position in the next world. All he meant was that Mr. McCullagh's standing in this had been so good, it seemed a pity he was compelled to relinquish it.'Didn't ye know?' went on the clerk, looking with grave curiosity at Robert, who was, indeed, thrown quite off his balance by the sudden check he thus met. 'Didn't ye know?''Know! If I had known I wouldn't be here!' retorted this latest importation from the Land o' Cakes. 'Know! how should I know? The last letter we had from him he was well and like being well.''You were acquent with him, then?' this tentatively.'Acquent? no. I never set eyes on him in all my life; but he was my uncle.''Ye don't mean that!'--the expression of incredulity was natural if not complimentary.'I do, and that's why I came to London. O, why couldn't he have died before or after?'The young fellow's distress was very genuine. It was the most genuine of all distress, indeed--that which appertains to self.'Did ye think he'd give ye a berth?' asked the clerk.'Ay, or find me one.''And what will ye do now?I don't know; go hang myself maybe.'I wouldn't do that yet,' advised the other. 'I'd go first, I think, and see Mistress McCullagh.''What like is she?''I never saw her to my knowledge; but no doubt she could help ye.''Who is keeping on this business?' asked the young man,

instead of instantly profiting by his friend's advice. 'Had he a partner?''No, nobody but his own self. Mr. Frickell, who was his chief clerk, is managing the business. He will keep things going till the sons get up d bit; but I wouldn't see him, if I was you; he'd only have to ask the mistress, and you may as well ask her direct. It wouldn't be so easy for her to refuse you as another.'It was poor advice; but as it seemed the best he was likely to obtain, Robert McCullagh made his way straight to Doughty-street, where his uncle, when living, had resided.How different the aspect of the streets from that they had borne an hour previously! Then, they seemed paved with gold; now, the young man felt he had never trodden drearier flintier thoroughfares.Arrived in Doughty-street, he found much difficulty: first, in making the servant understand what he wanted; and second, in inducing her to convey his message up-stairs; but at length he succeeded so far in his endeavours as to find himself in a good-sized apartment situate on the ground-floor, awaiting his aunt's appearance.After keeping him waiting for about ten minutes, she appeared: a, to him, awful presence--a 'fashionable madam,' he said afterwards, 'with her cap-strings flying and her dress rustling, and her head well up in the air; and so full of conceit she scarce seemed to like to think her feet touched the carpet.''You wished to see me,' she said, in what he mentally called her mincing English tongue; 'you sent your name in, I think, as--as Mr. Robert McCullagh.''That is right,' he answered. 'I am sore grieved to hear of your husband's death. He was my uncle, ye'll understand.'The lady touched her eyes with a very fine pocket-handkerchief; then running her fingers dreamily round the stitched border she remarked, 'He always led me to understand he had 'some very poor relations.''As to that--' began the young fellow hotly; then he stopped, feeling discretion might, in this case, be the better part of valour. 'Your husband was poor himself when he came to London,' he went on, after a moment's pause, 'and he never forgot those he left poor behind him. If he had lived, I am very sure he would have given me a helping hand to make my way too; and so I venture to ask if ye will be so good as to write a word to your manager and bid him find me

something to do, no matter how small, I don't care what it is, till I can turn myself round a bit. I'll carry out parcels or sweep the office.'She crossed her soft white hands one over the other, and surveyed them complacently ere she answered,'That would not do at all.''Then what will do?' he asked, all in a hurry. 'I'll not stand nice, whatever you bid me turn to. I'll try my hardest to pleasure ye.''You see,' she said, not answering his question direct, but still caressing those fair false hands, 'I have my children to consider.''The Lord forbid I should prevent your doing that!' he exclaimed, with fervour.'And I am afraid it would be a sad drawback to them hereafter if people knew their father had such sadly necessitous relations.'There was that in her tone which aroused all Robert's resentment.'We're willing to work for what we eat, ma'am,' he said a little hotly.'Yes, but don't you see--' she began, and then paused and hesitated. 'I am afraid,' she continued sweetly, 'I can scarcely explain what I mean without hurting your feelings.''Don't mind my feelings a hair,' said Robert energetically.'Your goodness makes it all the harder for me to say that I really am afraid I cannot do much to help you. I could not possibly have you at the office; you see you stand now where my husband began, and his children where he left off. They are in the rank he raised himself to, and you are in the rank he rose from.''And do ye think, mem, I couldn't raise myself too?' in a gradual crescendo, delivered in forcible Scotch.'I hope and trust you will,' was the reply; 'but I would rather it was not near us. I am afraid I must seem somewhat unkind; but as for giving you a situation in the office where my sons will one day be principals, it's a thing not to be thought of. My poor husband was always anxious for his children to rise in the world (he thought a great deal of the world, Mr. Robert; though a truly religious man he attached great weight to its opinions and prejudices), and I really could not, now he is no longer here, run counter to what I know were his cherished convictions;' and Mrs. McCullagh, having with

Spartan firmness given expression to this resolve, put her handkerchief to her eyes and wept a little.Robert looked at her with a feeling of impotent aversion he was at no pains to conceal.'I'm very certain, mem,' he said, 'that your poor husband, as ye call him, would never have wished ye to put a slight on one of the stock he sprang from; but, however, that is all past and gone. There's no use talking about last year's snow, or about help from a man who is lying in his grave; so here's wishing ye good morning, mem;' and the speaker made a step towards the door.She had not hoped to get rid of him so easily. She had dreaded remonstrances and importunities, reproaches and all the disagreeable items which make up, as a rule, the adjuncts of a regular scene. She ought accordingly to have felt relieved and thankful; and yet there was something in the young man's face and manner which caused her to fear his silence more than another's wrath.'I am sure,' she began, rising, but making no gesture of farewell, 'I sympathise with you most truly. I can understand how bitterly disappointed you must feel. You will admit yourself hereafter, I think, it was a wild-goose chase coming to London; but that does not make your position any less hard now. You will want money to return home. Most likely you depended upon receiving some pecuniary assistance from your uncle; you must allow me to help you. As you may imagine, I have been put to heavy expenses of late; but so far as ten pounds go, I can manage. Will ten pounds be enough?' she asked, looking with a certain fascination at the inscrutable smile his lips wore.'Thank ye,' he said; 'ten pounds will be more than enough.''You are quite welcome to that,' she answered, relieved; and drawing out her purse she laid down ten golden guineas on the table-cover.Robert watched her in silence, looking sometimes at the money, as she placed one piece beside another, then at her handsome face, again considering her white hands and taper fingers.'You are sure that will be sufficient?' she said questioningly.'Sure and certain,' he replied, stretching out his hand, which was hard and brown, and showed evidence of the work

it had already done, and pushing the gold across to where she stood. 'Take back your money, mem, and much good may it do ye. I am not a beggar, and I am not going back to my own country; and maybe some day ye'll meet me where ye would rather not, and remember ye refused me what I asked when ye may wish to forget it.'Having delivered himself of which astounding sentence, Robert walked out of the room, opened the hall-door for himself, and found himself in the street.The whole world of London was before him, yet he decided to retrace his steps to St. Benet's-hill.'Well, did ye see her?' asked his countryman.'O, ay, I saw her right enough,' he answered.'And what is she going to do for ye?' inquired the other, who certainly expected Mr. McCullagh's nephew had come back to take possession of a stool in the office which chanced at that moment to be vacant.'Nothing,' was the explicit answer.'Nothing!' repeated the listener.'Just that,' agreed Robert.'Why, what reason did she give? didn't she believe ye were his nephew?''No fear of that; she believed it true enough, but she wants none of his kith or kin coming after her.''No?' this interrogatively, and without committing the speaker to any opinion with respect to Mrs. McCullagh's wishes.'She's a wonderful woman,' went on the young man. 'She has crape on her dress a yard deep, but I misdoubt me if she has a bit of grief in her heart. She made belief to cry once or twice, but she was not able to wring out a tear.''She's left sole executrix,' said the other mysteriously.'I am not surprised. I deemed as much,' was the answer.And what do ye think ye'll do now?' asked the clerk.'I don't know--I can't tell. Man! it takes more nor an hour or two to get over a shock of this sort.''That's true. Ye'll maybe be considering about going back again.''Do ye mean home to Scotland? No, I'm just as well here;' wherein Mr. McCullagh conveyed, perhaps unintentionally, the reason why so few Scotch youths ever do retrace their steps northward.'I won't say ye're wrong,' remarked the other.'No, I'm right; there's work of a certainty to be found in a big town like this.''Ay but the trouble's to find it.''She wanted me to go back. She counted down ten golden guineas for the purpose.''Did she, now!''And I told her to keep her money, that I wanted none of it.''Man, wasn't that foolish?' exclaimed the clerk.Well, I'll admit it maybe wasn't over-wise,' conceded Robert, 'but she angered me. I felt just beside myself with rage.''It's aye best to keep cool,' said the other; 'see now, if ye'd kept cool ye might have been ten guineas the richer, and I dare believe ye're not over-burdened with money.''I could do with more,' answered Robert dryly.'Well, I am afraid I can't stand talking to ye any longer,' remarked his countryman. 'Mr. Frickell mightn't like it. But if ye think I can help ye with advice, or speaking a word, I shall be going out to my dinner in about half an hour, and ye might wait for me at the tavern round the corner in Thames-street.''Thank you, I'll do that,' said the future merchant; 'and maybe ye could put me in the way of finding a decent lodging.''No doubt I might,' was the answer; and so they parted.'When they met again, which they did duly and truly at the expiration of half an hour, Mr. Anderson--such being the of the late Mr. McCullagh's clerk--told the young man he could recommend him to a very decent house, where, if the lodgings did not chance to be vacant, he would certainly be directed to some that were.Over a glass of toddy, compounded in haste and swallowed with precipitation, the pair cemented a friendship which it is only right to say remained unimpaired through years; and Mr. Anderson said he would just turn the matter over in his mind, and consider whether he could not send his master's nephew to some one likely to give 'him employ.''Ye say ye don't mind what ye do,' he remarked.'Not a bit, except stand idle,' was the ready answer.'Weel, weel, just content yourself for a day or two, and I'll see what can be done. Only mind, don't come near our office. Now the mistress is set against ye it might be worth my place to be seen talking to ye.'The young fellow nodded. 'I'll no bring ye into trouble,' he answered reassuringly.Mr. Anderson proved much better than his word. The very next day Robert received intelligence that a certain Mr. McHaffey, who had sensibly abbreviated his name to Haffey, could find something for him to do till he had time to 'look round;' and the young fellow accordingly found himself the same afternoon seated at a desk in a wholesale potato warehouse situate in Tooley-street where his duties, though constant, were not so onerous as to preclude his devoting a considerable amount of thought as to how he was to push himself on in the world. It was then chance directed his future steps into the 'Scotch trade.' No need to state that of the various delicacies he brought to London as propitiatory gifts for his uncle, Mrs. McCullagh never beheld even a pot of marmalade. All the store which would keep he kept, giving the more perishable articles, such as 'Finnan haddies,' to Mr. Anderson. Far too careful to consume luxuries of any sort himself, he found as time went on that he could 'place' most of his good things advantageously as presents.'He lost nothing by it,' to use his own expression; he found the English generous, and a well-bestowed mutton ham or paper of 'sweeties' returned him many and many a time admirable interest.Little by little he planted his stock out, without any idea of ultimate profit except that which might accrue in the way of social intercourse or business friendship from such small offerings; but after a time, to his astonishment, he began to be asked to procure further supplies of articles so exceptionally excellent.He had not dreamt of any such result; but when he saw fruit so soon ripening where he had dropped his little presents into the ground, he began to ask himself whether here might not be an opening; whether in this way, and without interfering in the least with his present occupation, he could not commence to turn an honest penny. At the end of his cogitations he wrote down to his father:'I think I could "do a wee" if I had some of these things in London to sell. All I brought up was weel liked, and the people I gave them to would cheerfully pay for more. When Duncan Stewart comes to London I wish ye could put up a hamper and let him bring it. If ye can't lie out of the siller I will manage to scrape enough together and send it down.'Mr. McCullagh senior did manage to 'lie out o' the siller,' and ere long his son returned the money, accompanied by an order for a further supply of goods, which were this time to be despatched by sea. 'I believe there is something to be done,' wrote the young man; and when his father read the letter, he said, 'if there is anything to be done he'll do it;' while his mother observed, 'She had always been very sure Rabbie would light on his feet.'Little by little, month by month, year by year, the business grew and flourished. Those were not the days, remember, reader, when housewives thought it was cheaper to buy preserves than to make them, and when they believed raspberry and currant jams could be obtained just as genuine from the nearest oilman as out of their copper pans. Bought articles had then to be pure and excellent to stand the test of domestic competition. Women at that remote period knew how to do many things which bid fair ere long to be reckoned amongst the lost arts; they could spice beef, and make pickles, and manufacture cheese-cakes; and therefore goods turned out wholesale had to be very good indeed to bear comparison with those produced at home.Now everything Mr. McCullagh sold was of the very best quality, and his fame and his connection gradually swelled, till he felt himself justified in giving Mr. Haffey notice and taking a little cellar in Wormwood-street.'It's an awful risk,' he said to Mr. Anderson, referring to the rent, which was ten pounds sterling a year; 'but I believe I can make it off. I'll try my hardest, at any rate.'When a man tries his hardest he generally succeeds, and Mr. Robert McCullagh succeeded. Through his father, who, though a poor man, was well known as an honest one, he first got a certain amount of credit from a large wholesale house; that house was his reference when in turn he wanted to deal with another in a somewhat different line of business. How his trade grew he could scarcely have told; but it did grow, and ere he had been six years in London he found himself in a position to negotiate for the house in Basinghall-street and take a wife.They were two momentous 'steps to venture upon in the course of a single twelvemonth, but Robert McCullagh did not lack courage. If the wife did not turn out so good an investment as the house it was scarcely his fault. A business can be entered upon by degrees-not so marriage; a man can

get rid of a business--he cannot get rid of a wife; he can mould and shape his trade--he who can mould and shape a wife must be clever indeed.In his after life Mr. McCullagh never voluntarily referred to the period when there was a Mistress McCullagh. Wisely, perhaps, he permitted that part of his experience to lapse. The matrimonial venture did not on the whole prove a success, and the wife wisely and considerately resolved the distasteful partnership in the best way possible--she died.But before she died she left behind some very tangible proofs of her. existence in the shape of four healthy boys. In her husband's memory she left marks, perhaps even more traceable.For the marriage proved most unhappy: not as marriages do in the modem sense, in an era when men and women can slip off the yoke as easily as a loose garment, but in a perhaps more unpleasant, though less public, manner.How irksome he had felt her companionship, or rather want of companionship, he scarcely realised till he was relieved of it for ever. She, on the contrary, understood perfectly well how totally uncongenial she found him, and, as is the manner of some wives, she took the whole of her own little world into her confidence on the subject of his shortcomings.And yet in no one essential point could Mr. McCullagh be considered a bad husband. He did not starve his wife or beat her, he did not drink, he did not give her even a pretext for jealousy; according to his lights he was just, and on occasion could be generous; but still, as she said, 'his ways broke her heart;' and those who knew her best always believed she died as much from inability to bend his will as from disease.When he first met her at the house of a mutual acquaintance she was a young silly girl, the only child of a small builder, reported to be worth some money; perfectly destitute of mental resources-possessed of a pretty face, a slight graceful figure, a fluent tongue, an incessant laugh, high spirits, and a love of dress.Mr. McCullagh said she was a 'bonnie lass' and had 'nice eyes of her own,' but whether he had ever quite forgotten a certain other 'lassie' left behind in Scotland, who was unlike Annie Mostin as we are led to believe Norah Creina was unlike Lesbia, is, to say the least of the matter, doubtful.What could be considered by no means doubtful, however, is that he liked the notion of her money. He wanted a house-

keeper, and he desired a home; he wished to have 'his meals regular.' It struck him that a wife, more especially one who did not come with her hand empty, might enable him to secure all these advantages upon very easy terms. Then certainly she was pretty; if she did not chance to be quite the style he most admired, it would have been hard for any man to look upon her face without favour. Further, she liked him; perhaps because he was different from all the men she had previously come in contact with; perhaps also because he took less notice of her. Add to these reasons that they were both young, that the lady, at whose house they often met, was an enthusiastic match-maker, that Mr. Mostin's worldly and social position was much above that of the young Scotch plodder, and it may easily be imagined Robert McCullagh soon began to weigh the pros cons of 'telling her his mind,' and ere long decided the beam inclined to matrimony.'I'll just marry her,' he said to himself; and as neither Miss Mostin nor her father threw any obstacle in his way, he did marry her, and repented doing so every after hour of his wedded life.It never occurred to him that when she became a wife she would not 'settle down.' He had been wont to regard her flighty ways, her foolish laughter, her silly talk, just as a horse-dealer might view the antics of a colt.'You'll soon get out of all that,' he considered, regarding her and her girlish companions with grim disapproval. 'It is a wonder to see young women of their age getting on like children.' But after marriage Mrs. McCullagh did not get out of it; she never got out of it: she was a silly girl, a silly wife, and a silly mother.'I have seen wee lassies of six years old that had more sense,' he told her often; to which Mrs. McCullagh would answer, 'Wee, indeed!' in a tone of scathing irony.Ridicule was the only weapon at her command, and she used it unsparingly.Under her utterances Mr. McCullagh often writhed, but the principal feeling her mimicry excited was hatred.When 'courting' he had been wont to expatiate upon the superiority of his native tongue, and to give the young lady examples from the poetry of Burns, Motherwell, Allan Ramsay, and other writers, of the power inherent in 'braid Scotch' to express love, regret, anger, and enthusiasm.While landing her fish, Miss Mostin. was quite ready to be-

lieve 'luve' to be superior to 'love,' 'greet' to 'cry,' 'leal' to 'loyal,' and 'bairn' to 'child;' but when once she found herself bound for the term of her natural life to her husband's vernacular, a change came o'er the spirit of her dream, and she never employed a Scottish phrase save to make fun of it.To Mr. McCullagh--who believed in his native land as he believed in his Bible; who regarded the 'English tongue' as effeminate and inexpressive; her foolish ridicule, her most ill-advised mockery proved intensely galling. He could, perhaps, have pardoned her a sin, but he could not forgive the slights she put on himself and his country.And the worst of it was, he could not speak without giving her a handle, which she was generally swift to use. In all their domestic disagreements--which were many, and in which she invariably came off worsted--both argument and rebuke were ended by some absurd mimicry of his way of speaking. She was not a good mimic either, which made it all the harder to bear.'I never did lift my hand against a woman, but I feel often sorely tempted,' he declared once, in a moment of exasperation.Those who knew the McCullaghs well always declared that the first quarrel occurred over their first tête-à-tête breakfast in the honeymoon, and that the cause of it was a piece of toast.They were on a journey which it was hoped would combine business and pleasure, and at the hotel where they stopped a round of buttered toast was brought up in a covered dish.'Isn't that like an inn?' said Mrs. McCullagh, the moment the waiter left the room, turning over the toast as she spoke.Mr. McCullagh did not answer: he had not the faintest idea what she meant, and did not like to confess his ignorance; so dropped his eyes again on the paper, which had made its appearance with breakfast, and remained silent.Happening to look up again in. a minute, he saw his wife buttering the toast.'What are ye doin'?' he asked; 'sure, the toast was buttered.''Only on one side,' she replied gaily.'Put down the knife!' he cried, 'put down the knife! Lord's sake, are ye out of yer senses? Most folk are glad enough to have their bread buttered on one side, without wanting it on both. I never heard tell of such a thing! Ye won't have your toast buttered on both sides by me, I can warrant ye that!'Nor had she. In some shape or form she was always trying to get her toast buttered on both sides; but Mr. McCullagh would not permit her one single luxury of which he disapproved. Their whole married life was a long struggle on her part and a stern repression on his.The one social weapon she at first possessed in the shape of her father's position, and the yearly amount he allowed her, soon snapped in her hands. Her father failed. He had long been in difficulties, unsuspected by the outer world, but well understood by himself; and at last he was obliged to appeal for assistance to his son-in-law.He sent for him one morning, and standing in the middle of his yard, filled with building materials, surrounded by many outward and visible signs of prosperity, he said,'I am very sorry to tell you, Robert, that if I cannot get some assistance I shall have to stop.''Ay, indeed,' said Robert coolly, though really he felt almost stricken dumb; 'I am grieved to hear it.''Yes, it is a bad job; and it is a pity too for a business like this to go to pieces.''It is that,' agreed his son-in-law.'If I had a thousand pounds, if I had five hundred of ready cash, I could carry on.''Could ye, now?''Yes; I have contracts in hand that would soon enable me to turn myself round.''Wouldn't your bankers help ye?''They would help me, if I could give them any sort of security.''Well, surely ye ought to have no difficulty about that, and you so well known.''Yes; but don't you see, if I go about amongst my friends asking for help, it will be thought my affairs have got embarrassed.''They are embarrassed, though, aren't they?' said his son-in-law simply.'Of course; nevertheless, there is no need to tell that to everybody.''No, not unless ye think the body ye tell can help ye.''I don't know anybody I think can help me except yourself.''And I am very sure I don't see how I can do that; ye don't suppose I have five hundred pounds or five hundred pence lying idle?''No, but you might join me in getting what I want; my bankers will advance what I need if I take them a good name on a bill;' here the speaker paused, and looked at Mr. McCullagh, who did not answer a word, but stood looking intently at a chimney-pot waiting removal.'It would not take a sixpence out of your pocket,' went on Mr. Mostin eagerly; 'and it would enable me to turn a very ugly corner. Come into the office, and I'll show you the contracts I spoke of, and then you can see for yourself; come;' and he laid a persuasive hand on his son-in-law's arm.'No, I don't think I'll go in,' said the other slowly, at the same time quietly releasing himself from Mr. Mostin's grasp. 'I am very sorry, on every account, to hear what ye say; but it is no in my power to help ye. I couldn't do what ye want, he added, seeing Mr. Mostin about to speak; 'and I hope ye won't press me, because now ye are in trouble I don't want to say anything to hurt you. I am a young beginner, and I have got a wife, and I have got a child, and it would not be right for me to do anything of the sort.''But you would never be called upon for a penny,' urged his father-in-law.'That's just as it might be; at any rate, I'll not run the risk. I'd never have a night's sound rest till the bill came due; and maybe I'd never have a sound night's rest after. I'm real vexed to have to refuse ye; but I couldn't do it, I could not indeed.'In which determination Mr. McCullagh evinced his usual excellent judgment; for when Mr. Mostin's affairs came to be wound up, or rather unwound, it was proved conclusively that eight times five hundred pounds would not have enabled him to surmount his difficulties, and that the builder himself least, of all persons interested in the matter, understood how he was situated.Mrs. McCullagh, however, always chose to believe her husband could have 'saved her father' had he pleased to do so; and his conduct on this occasion alienated the ill-matched couple, if possible, further from each other.Mr. Mostin's bankruptcy had also this further evil effect: it enabled Mr. McCullagh, whenever his wife, jeering at his circumscribed ideas and parsimonious ways, pointed her sentence with the remark, 'We never thought of such things at home,' 'I was not brought up to consider cheese-parings,' or, 'I would

not have married if I had known I was to be nothing better than a household drudge,' to say,'Maybe if ye had thought a bit more of such things at home it might have been better for ye;' or, 'It's a pity ye had not been brought up in a different manner;' or, 'If ye had not been married ye would have been forced now to turn out and earn your own bread;' all statements with which, on the score of veracity, no exception could be found, but which were exceedingly hard to bear notwithstanding.For his father-in-law, Mr. McCullagh, when the worst came, showed a consideration which could scarcely have been expected from him. He said, when the messenger entered into possession of the yard and house and offices and furniture,'Ye had better come round and take a bed with us. There's room enough, and ye're welcome to share what's going; and if ye would like to employ yourself I can find ye some writing, and pay ye ten or fifteen shillings a week till ye are out of your trouble;' an offer Mr. Mostin declined with many thanks, and which his daughter construed into a desire, on her husband's part, to insult the family.'Maybe it was an insult to offer a man board and lodging and wages,' agreed Mr. McCullagh; 'but I did not intend it as an affront, and I don't think your father took it as such.'The years went by, passed in perpetual bickering, till at last Mrs. McCullagh fell into a bad state of health, and drooped slowly out of life.She was ill for a considerable time--eighteen months and more--and it was whilst she faded away that Mr. McCullagh wrote for the presence and assistance of his kinswoman, Miss Nicol.All in vain Mrs. McCullagh said she would not remain in the house if a 'strange woman' were set in authority over it. Mr. McCullagh asked where she meant to go, and whether she really thought he would permit the house to go to wreck and ruin, and the children to run wild, so long as there was anybody to be found who would keep 'things together.''You'll marry her, I suppose, when I'm dead,' wept Mrs. McCullagh.Her husband looked at her with a singular expression, and answered, with caustic irony,'I think I'll no do that. I have had about enough of marriage to last me my lifetime.''You never liked me,' whimpered Mrs. McCullagh weakly.'I liked ye well enough,' answered her husband, 'and I'd have liked ye better if ye had had any sense or could have learned any; but there's no use talking about that now,' added Mr. McCullagh hurriedly, and not without a touch of feeling in his voice, ' no use at all.''No,' she agreed, 'it is of no use talking about anything now; it is too late' and she turned her head aside to hide the tears he knew were falling.'I wouldn't do that, Annie,' said Mr. McCullagh, drawing the shawl which had fallen from his wife's shoulders around her with more tenderness than might have been expected. 'Ye'll only hurt yourself.'But she wept on bitterly. Perhaps at the moment she was thinking if she had only understood something of the virtue of silence that first morning when she wanted her toast buttered on both sides, life might have proved happier than she had found it!CHAPTER III.
FATHER AND SON.'Now then,' said Mr. McCullagh, when he and his first-born were safely shut in the ground-floor room, which Robert too well remembered as the place where many a pitched battle between his mother and father was fought, and lost by the former, 'what is this weighty matter that can only be told with closed doors?'There was a sneer both of contempt and irritability in Mr. McCullagh's tone; but the young man replied, with an assumption of careless jocularity he was far from feeling,'I thought mine would be great news till I found Kenneth had taken the wind out of my sails.''Well, whatever it may be, tell me at once, that is if ye think fit.''I came here for no other purpose, father,' was the answer; 'but I confess I do not care to talk about my private affairs, more especially affairs that are still doubtful, before Miss Nicol and Effie.''Ye might talk before two worse people,' remarked Mr. McCullagh dryly.'Very likely; but I do not see the necessity of talking before any one. If the slightest chatter came round to Mr. Pousnett's ears it might spoil all my chances.''Pousnett has to do with the matter, I suppose,' surmised the Scotch merchant.'Yes; he has offered me a partnership.''Offered--you--a partnership!' repeated Mr. McCullagh. 'Well, you do astonish me!' and he looked his astonishment. 'It's no credible,' and he sat silent a moment, whether stricken dumb by the consideration of his son's good fortune or Mr. Pousnett's folly did not transpire.'I felt incredulous at first,' said Robert, thinking to follow up the advantage he fancied he had gained.'I don't wonder at that,' said his father.'But it is coupled,' went on the young man, 'with a condition.''There's a condeetion, is there?' commented Mr. McCullagh.'Yes, and one perhaps you may not like just at the first.''I can't judge of that till you tell me what it is.''He makes it a sine quâ non for me to bring in seven thousand pounds.''Ay indeed.''He wanted ten thousand, but finally consented to take seven.'It's an awful lot o' siller.''Of course, seven or even ten is nothing to such a firm, but he requires a certain amount to be invested so as to bind my interests and those of the house together. I told him I could do nothing till I talked the matter over with you, so he has given me a fortnight in which to make up my mind.''Well, and what d'ye think ye'll do?''That depends almost, if not entirely, on you, sir.''On me I How can I have any say in the matter?''Of course, unless you can help me to the money--''Help ye! For peety's sake speak out, man. Ye don't suppose I have seven thousand pounds lying idle in my breeches-pocket!''No, certainly; but your name is good for seven times seven thousand, or for more even than that, and I am sure Mr. Pousnett would take your security for the amount with pleasure.''And I'm sure that is very good of him,' said Mr. McCullagh; but whether he spoke in jest or earnest no man who had not known him well could have told.'I can live on little,' proceeded Robert, 'and I would not touch a penny of my share of the profits beyond the merest trifle till you were paid back.''No doubt,' commented his father.'And it is such a splendid opening,' went on his son.'If ye think so I hope ye'll be able to avail yourself of it.''I shall not without your help, sir.'Putting this remark judiciously on one side by the simple process of ignoring it altogether, Mr. McCullagh observed,'How does it chance Pousnetts' firm wants another partner? I thought ye had enough and to spare of able-bodied and strong-minded men there already?''Well, the fact is--you won't mention this, will you?''No, I'll mention nothing ye want kept hid. What is the fact?''There is going to be a split in Pousnetts' firm.''Ye don't say so!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, his attention and curiosity fully aroused.'It is quite true; Mr. Pousnett told me himself. Mr. Giles is going to start altogether on his own account at Liverpool. Mr. Hinton means to proceed to Bombay and establish a business something of the same sort there. Mr. Hume Pousnett sails early in the year to open a branch at Melbourne, and his brother, young Mr. Stanley, takes his place here.'Lord bless and save us!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh. 'It is like a vairse out of one of the chronological chapters in the Screeptures.''So you see, sir, the house could not do without taking in one partner, to say the least of it.''I should have thought,' said Mr. McCullagh, as he spoke producing his snuff-box and taking thereout a pinch which he held suspended between his finger and thumb till he had finished his sentence,--'I should have thought Pousnetts might have had their pick and choice of the best in London.''So they might, so they might,' interrupted Robert eagerly.'And what puzzles me,' comforting his nostrils with that deferred pinch, 'is why they would take you!'There was nothing remarkable in his words, but the tone in which Mr. McCullagh spoke italicised every one of them. It implied, 'Here is a poor, weak, vain, useless creature; what can a big firm like that want with a brainless idiot I would not give pound a week to for entering goods in the day-book?''You see I know all the inns and outs of the business,' remarked Robert deprecatingly.'Well, there's something in that,' conceded his father.'And I do think Mr. Pousnett has a regard for me.''There's no telling,' said Mr. McCullagh, in a manner that suggested, however incredible the statement seemed to him, he did not desire to contradict it as impossible.'He has always taken more notice of me than of anybody else about the office.''I make no doubt you have done your best for him,' was the reply.'Indeed, I have; I felt it both a pleasure and an honour to work for such a perfect gentleman. Why, there are fellows I

know in the City ready to knock me down for envy, many a time, when they see me so much thought of!''I always said it was very wonderful,' observed Mr. McCullagh.'And now to think of my being offered a partnership-why, men who have been fifty years on 'Change would jump at such a chance!''If it had been offered to one of them, I should not have been as much surprised.''And yet you see he passes over them and comes to me.''That is the puzzle of it,' observed Mr. McCullagh.'I know you would not offer me a partnership, father,' said his son, a little bitterly.'I'd offer one to no man,' was the answer. 'So long as there are clerks to be had for a weekly wage, I'll content myself, and try to carry on my business single-handed.''I won't say but you are right,' said Robert reflectively.'Ye needn't, because I know I am right. What I have, I have made for myself; what I own, I'll keep for myself.'They were getting very wide now of the real matter in hand, so wide that Robert felt they were drifting out to sea altogether, and he therefore ventured to recall his father to Mr. Pousnett's offer, by asking,'What do you say to it, sir?''What do I say to what?' returned Mr. McCullagh sharply.'To this proposal to become a partner.''I say it sounds to me much like a suggestion as to whether you would like to go to the moon, or take unto yourself wings and flee across the Atlantic. The one thing is just as feasible as the other. In the name of common sense, where would you get seven thousand pounds to run the chance of profit and loss in any house?''It's mostly profit in our house, father.''Granted; we'll grant Pousnetts' is an exception to most rules; that is, there is not a pairticle of risk in the matter. Where are you to get seven thousand pounds, or seven hundred, for the matter of that?''Nowhere, sir, unless you will give a helping hand,' said Robert, sticking to his previous text.'Me! I Do you think I am out of my mind?''No, I do not; but as this is a chance which may never offer again--''That is what every man says who comes a-begging,' ob-

served Mr. McCullagh. 'I mean no offence to you,' he added, seeing his son wince and colour. 'I spoke in general terms. Whenever a man wants credit, or a loan, or a reference, or anything you don't feel well inclined to give him, he says such a chance cannot come his way any more. The minute I hear that phrase, that minute I put up my purse. You'll have plenty more chances, Robert. I am older than you; and ye may take my word, the openings that seem the most likely are those which, as a rule, take a man straight to the Court at the bottom of this street, and leave him there.''Yet you seem to think well of the opening which has come to Kenneth,' ventured Kenneth's brother.'That's a horse of quite another colour,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'just as Kenneth himself is quite another sort from you. To a certain extent, I can see the why and the because of his good fortune; but I can't make head or tail of Pousnetts' wanting you, and seven thousand pounds in your hand. It beats me, Robert. Most times I can see daylight; but now I confess I am lost--I can't discern even my hand before me.''I thought you would be glad and proud, father,' remonstrated the young man, mortified; 'but there, I might have known how it would be: you never thought anything of my mother, and you'll never think anything of me, because I am like her, and I can't take to Scotch ways or Scotch people.''We'll let your mother rest, if you please, Robert; and as to your mislike of your father's country, and your father's country-people, that I consider more your misfortune than your fault. If a colt is not properly trained he will aye be running over to the wrong side of the road; and it is the same with a lad. If he is brought up to hear nothing but folly and non-sense when he is a child, he will never be worth much all his life long.''Say what you please against me, sir; but do not, even by implication, speak against your dead wife. I know what she had to bear; I know how you broke her heart--''Just bide a wee,' interposed Mr. McCullagh, 'and don't, in your temper, speak words you may wish to-morrow you had never spoken. One story is good till another is told. There is not a judge in the land would give his opinion till he had heard the defendant's case. As we have somehow got upon the subject--sorely against my will--I'll tell ye this: that there never was a husband willing to do more for his wife than I for

your mother. If she spoke the truth on her dying bed, she could not say I ever was aught but good to her. She tried me sore, I won't deny that; and I would not let her ruin me; if she had had her way we'd have been begging our bread within a year of our marriage. I never thought to say this much to ye; but when ye imply I am unfair to you because your mother was unfair to me, I can hold my peace no longer. Ye know, Robert, the beginning and end why we have never just agreed. Ye know ye have always and ever set yourself up against me. When ye were quite a small child--''O sir, don't let us talk of that now!''I must talk of it, Robert, for ye began the fray. Ye remember what ye were brought up to think of your father, who should have been first in your thoughts. I say that seriously. A child may love his mother most, but his mother should teach him to respect his father. The man should be head of his own household.''Is it necessary, father, for us to go over all that old ground?' asked his son.'Yes; for the reason you and I have never travelled it before. Always and ever there has been a hidden reference to some wrong your mother suffered at my hands; and God knows the only wrong I ever did her was saying, "Will ye be my wife?" We were not suited, Robert. Her ways were not mine, or mine hers; and yet, do ye know,' said Mr. McCullagh, with a dash of poetry and sentiment which seemed quite foreign to his nature,.'if she had been a bit gentle and lamb-like, if she had not angered me with her senseless mockings and jeerings, I think I might have been a different person. I have seen women just fit to make of a man what they liked. Your mother, Robert, did not see fit to make anything of me.''I would rather not speak of her,' his son said stiffly.'It was you introduced her name. Just when your mother and I were at what I may call our worst, I heard one man say to his fellow, "Why do you thrash that poor brute of a horse as you do? It makes me sick to see you." And the other made answer, "Because he is the greatest devil ever drew breath." "That's your version of it," said the first. "I should like to hear the horse's side of the story." Now that is what I mean: there was another side to the story, and that was mine. I refused many of her wishes just for the same reason I refuse your demand for seven thousand pounds,--because there was no reason in them.''But surely, sir, you can see some reason in my desire to obtain a partnership in Pousnetts'?''And pay seven thousand pounds for the preevilege?''Seven thousand pounds seems nothing to them.''Do you know what I started with?''A very small sum, I. believe, sir.''Something like seven shillings, Robert, when I first found myself adrift in your big world of London.''But the times were different then.''I think they were a trifle harder.''You will acknowledge that a man who has to make his way with a good coat on his back must fight a harder battle than the man who wages the battle of life in his shirt-sleeves.''Perhaps so; but my coat was good enough, and I did not insult my first employer by entering his office in my shirt-sleeves.'There was silence for a minute; then the younger man said desperately,'To put it in plain words, sir, will you help me in this matter?''To put it in plain words,' answered Mr. McCullagh, 'I don't see how I can.''Of course I did not mean exactly in money;' this with all his feelers out.'How then?' this doggedly.'Why, your name, sir, would be quite sufficient.''Don't ye know,' asked Mr. McCullagh, 'that in my business I never give nor take a bill? You may sneer,' for indeed at that moment Robert did uplift nose and chin with a significant gesture; 'but my notion is that bills are the Satan of trade. They lure a man to destruction. He promises to pay, say, 200l: three months after date. How, on the face of God Almighty's earth, can a man promise to pay anything three months hence! To-day is his, but to-morrow is not.''Then, sir, you would stop all trade.''No, I'd stop all illegitimate trade. What I said at first to my folks was this, "I'll pay ye when I can;" and I did. There was no call for me to lie awake at nights thinking the fourth of the month was coming close; and the plan I adopted then I stick to now. Since I began no one has lost a sixpence by me, and I have not lost much myself.''Then, to cut this matter of mine short,' said Robert impatiently, you distinctly refuse to he3p me in any way?''I distinctly refuse to help you in this way,' answered his father in his broadest Scotch accent, which always grew painfully pronounced when he was very much in earnest. 'Knowing my preenceples, I really wonder at your coming to me on such an errand.''So do I--now,' muttered his son.'Ye haven't asked me for my opeenion,' went on Mr. McCullagh, his shrewd face looking shrewder and thinner than ever by the dim light of that solitary candle; 'but I'll give it ye, because I could not just reconcile it to my conscience to refrain from telling ye how this offer strikes me. As ye very truly say, seven thousand pounds is nothing, or should be nothing, to a firm like Pousnetts. If they had bid ye bring in twenty-five or thirty thousand I should not have made a bit of wonder of the matter; but seven! Why, they must turn as much as that often in a day!''More,' agreed Robert.'Well, then, if they're solvent--''Sir!' interrupted the younger man.'I would not fire up about nothing if I was you. I am only putting a supposititious case. I don't say they are not solvent. All I do mean is, if they are, seven thousand pounds can't signify to them, and therefore it is not for the worth's sake they insist on your finding it.''I told you before the value of the money had nothing to do with the question.''But,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh, as if his son had not spoken, 'if, on the other hand, they really want ye to stop, or to put it in other words,' amended the merchant, checking his utterances off slowly with the first finger of his right hand, carefully striking the first finger of his left, 'if ye're of as much use to them as ye've always thought, and, indeed, as I have always understood myself, what is there to hinder them taking ye in without any capital at all? It's simple folly and nonsense talking about binding your interest to theirs. Sensible business men would not talk such babbles unless there was something behind.''And may I ask,' inquired Robert sarcastically, 'if you do not believe one of the largest and oldest firms in our trade to be on the eve of bankruptcy, what you may be pleased to consider does lie behind?''I think they want civilly to get rid of ye;' and, feeling he could add nothing to the force of this unexpected statement,

Mr. McCullagh rose and lifted the candle, as a sign the interview might be considered at an end.But his son was not to be so dismissed.'You never were more mistaken in your life, sir,' he said indignantly. 'I am invaluable to the firm. Mr. Pousnett acknowledges that himself.''I am real glad to know it,' was the dry comment; 'for, in that case, they'll give ye a small share without any money whatsoever. The whole matter lies in a nutshell: if they are insolvent, the seven thousand pounds would be useful to them; if they are solvent and want ye, they'll take ye and not look for a penny of capital.'CHAPTER IV.
RETROSPECTIVE.WHEN Mrs. McCullagh died, the evil wrought by her weakness and folly did not die with her. Weeds as well as flowers can grow above a grave; other actions besides those of the just can spring up from the dust, and blossom and bear fruit a hundredfold.Young though her first-born child was at the time of her death, he was quite old enough to understand his father and mother had never been of one mind; and that, while he was 'mamma's pet,' his brothers were regarded by his male parent with more favour than himself. The reason for this was not far to seek.In the child Robert Mr. McCullagh beheld reproduced the beauty, the giddiness, the silliness, the perversity of the girl he had married all too rashly; and to this might be added the mortification of seeing his own boy brought up to deride him, encouraged in petty deceit and constant dissimulation. From the time little Robert, or 'wee Rabbie,' as his father at that period affectionately termed him, was sufficiently advanced in life to sit on a footstool and 'behave himself prettily,' he had been accustomed to hear his mother and her gossips talking over all the trials of her wedded life, mourning that Mr. McCullagh was not like anybody else, and could not be remade into a similitude of any other person. There are always women to listen when a woman speaks ill of her husband; there is no lack, in this world, of ladies only too ready to sympathise (?)--Heaven save the mark!--with those of their sex who have a fancy to expose a real or imaginary grievance to the public eye.Over cups of tea and slices of thin bread-and-butter Mr. McCullagh's shortcomings were discussed, every fresh instance of what Mrs. McCullagh called his 'niggardliness' evoking a perfect chorus of pitying exclamations. Amongst Mrs. McCullagh's friends chanced to be those whose English was none of

the purest; but without a thought of their own sins in the way of pronunciation and grammar, they were unanimous in the opinion that Mr. McCullagh's Scotticisms were perfectly dreadful, and never wearied of asking his wife why she did not teach him better.Anything more ludicrous to an outsider than the imitations of Mr. McCullagh's mode of speech in which the various ladies indulged, could scarcely be conceived. Those alone who have been privileged to hear an Irishwoman with a very broad accent mimicking the 'English tongue' can form some faint idea of what Mr. McCullagh's sharp incisive sentences and peculiar forms of expression became when reproduced by ladies in the habit of dropping their h's, as the young person in the fairy tale dropped pearls, whenever they opened their mouths to speak, and of inserting them where h had no manner of right to be.Had the school been a good one it is more than likely little Robert would not have learnt the lessons set before him with such rapidity as was the case; but being what it was, the child soon knew by heart every peculiarity of his father's speech and manner, and felt very sure his mother was the only person in the establishment to love and obey.After a fashion, indeed, the boy had to obey the head of the household; but he only rendered the obedience of fear and of dislike. Whenever he could safely run counter to his father's wishes he did so; and in this course of conduct he was encouraged by his mother, whose whole existence seemed spent in considering how she could elude her husband's vigilance, and procure for herself, and give Robert share of, those little luxuries her soul loved, indulgence in which Mr. McCullagh met either with active hostility or viewed with grim disapproval.As regarded the training of children, Mr. McCullagh's ideas were Spartan. His own breakfast was always prefaced by a great basin of porridge, which he pronounced 'parritch' and spoke of as 'them;' and he conscientiously believed no one could grow up to be strong, wise, or happy who had not morning after morning partaken of a sufficient portion of Scotch oatmeal thus prepared. He had 'eaten them,' he said, 'for mony a year, and was glad to get them, and he did not know what his wife meant by turning up her nose at good victuals, and setting her boy's stomach against them too. What serves me might serve him, I think,' added Mr. McCullagh; and there

was a certain amount of reason in this remark, though Mrs. McCullagh utterly failed to see it.After his mother's death the position of the boy Robert was, as may readily be conceived, none of the pleasantest. During her illness he had lived much in her room, sharing the dainties she could barely touch, doing very much what he pleased, and petted and extolled by visitors for his filial affection. The lad felt her loss most bitterly. Independent of the anguish all children experience when they are brought in contact with the angel who seems to them so terrible in its silence, so merciless in its strength, there was for this precocious child with the dark eyes and the curly hair a certain knowledge that when the coffin was carried down-stairs the only friend he possessed in that house was leaving it for ever. The child--for he was nothing more-sat down in a corner and cried as if his heart would break; and as the days went on and his tears refused to flow any longer, he began to mope about the rooms, haunting his late mother's bedchamber, and being enough, so declared Miss Nicol, 'to make a person go melancholy mad.''Let him be, Janet, let him be,' said Mr. McCullagh, when appealed to on the subject of Roberts 'vagaries;' 'the mother made, perhaps, ower much of him, and it's natural he should fret after her;' and in his own way Mr. McCullagh tried to conciliate and comfort the boy. He gave him weak tea or milk-and-water for his breakfast. He brought him up tiny parcels of confectionery, he got him a bag of marbles and a spinning-top, but it was all in vain; the child took what his father had to give with listless indifference, and soon recommenced his aimless rambles through the house'What you want is a sound whipping, Robbie,' said Miss Nicol one day, when, meeting him coming slowly up the stairs, she asked him 'what he wanted,' and the boy answered he did 'not know;' 'and if I were your father I would give it to you.'Robert did not say a word in reply; he only laid his face on the broad balustrade, and as she reached the landing she heard a strangled yet irrepressible sob.'Carle take the lad,' she muttered; 'why can't he go and play himself like his brothers?' and again she spoke to Mr. McCullagh, stating her belief that unless 'something was done Robert would break his heart.''If ye could tell me what is to be done, there might be some use in your talking,' answered Mr. McCullagh, in the

tone which had so often exasperated his wife; 'but if ye can't, ye'd best hold your tongue.'Miss Nicol followed this excellent advice, not because she felt in the slightest degree offended at Mr. McCullagh's words or manner, which were only, as she often said, 'his way,' but because she really had no suggestion to offer, having merely thrown out a hint as to the child's condition in the hope it would 'simmer' in his father's mind.Mr. McCullagh was, however, neither blind nor indifferent. Hard he might be, but just at that period he came nearer loving his first-born than had ever been the case since the boy was two years old. Deep down in the depths of the flintiest nature there is implanted a desire to be mourned after and remembered when earth's cares and vanities are for us no more; and Mr. McCullagh, seeing the child's grief for his mother, longed perchance for even a modicum of that attachment to be transferred to him.But it was not to be. At the precise period when Mr. McCullagh felt most perplexed as to what he should do with regard to Robert, Mr. Mostin chanced to call.By one of those inexplicable turns of fortune which are always coming to men who fail to make a proper use of them, Mrs. McCullagh's father had some time after his bankruptcy (his estate paid about twopence in the pound) fallen upon his feet. A City gentleman who had known something of Mr. Mostin in his best days, wishing to be his own architect, asked the former builder to carry out his plans and see the work was well and substantially executed.In its integrity Mr. Mostin understood his trade to a nicety; he saw that the best materials only were used, that the bricks were properly bedded, that the timber was well seasoned, the drains perfectly laid. Not being tied down as regarded expense, he suggested and carried out many small improvements on the original plan, which, principally relating to kitchen and laundry arrangements (people washed at home in those days), got talked about and gained him credit.The one house led to more; by degrees he got together an admirable connection, and at the time of his daughter's death was doing better than had been the case in his palmiest days.Coming up from the country, where he was superintending the building of an additional wing to a lordly mansion, he happened to call on one of little Robert's worst days at the house off Basinghall-street.'The little lad's no so well as he might be,' said Mr. McCullagh, in apologetic explanation.'He will never get better if he goes on as he is doing,' added Miss Nicol, with cruel and unnecessary candour.His grandfather looked at the child thoughtfully. He was standing beside the window, listlessly gazing out on the dreary court; his cheeks were white, and great black rings circled his eyes. He was growing tall and weedy, 'just like a potato-haulm in a cellar,' thought the builder; his clothes were different from those his mother had got for him; they were strong and good and warm enough, but they were not 'nice.''Here, Bob, my boy,' said Mr. Mostin cheerfully, when his scrutiny was quite completed, 'I want you.''And don't walk as if you had fourteen-pound weights to your shoes,' observed Miss Nicol.'Let him be, let him be, Janet,' expostulated Mr. McCullagh, using his customary formula: 'the child is ailing; any body with half an eye could see that.''It seems to me,' observed his grandfather, putting his hand under the boy's chin, and turning up a very mournful, pallid face for public inspection,--'it seems to me, young gentleman, that a run in the country is about what you stand most in need of. How should you like to come with me down into Devonshire for a fortnight? I am lodging at a nice farmhouse there, where there are cows and ducks and Guinea fowl and pigs and horses, and an old pony I daresay they would let you ride round the paddock. Do you think that would put some life in your body and some colour in your cheeks--eh?' and Mr. Mostin, who, while thus speaking ostensibly to the child, had been really addressing the father, glanced as he concluded round at Mr. McCullagh to see how he took the proposition.'Would you like to go with your grandfather, Rabbie?' asked Mr. McCullagh; 'don't say no if ye want to say yes.'For answer the boy put a thin hand in that of his grandfather, while his eyes lighted up, and a faint smile flickered about his mouth.'You would be pleased to see all those things?' said Mr. Mostin; 'well then, you shall. Go and say, "Thank you, father, for giving me leave to take such a fine holiday;"' and he pushed his grandson gently towards Mr. McCullagh.'Thank you, father, for giving me leave to take such a fine holiday,' said the child obediently, but retreating even as he spoke to Mr. Mostin's side.'He's like his mother,' thought Mr. McCullagh, with a bitter pang. 'He can't abide me. He'd take sooner to any stranger.''I don't think he has got any clothes fit to go from home in,' said Miss Nicol, practical and disagreeable as usual.'O, we needn't trouble ourselves about clothes,' answered Mr. Mostin gaily; 'we don't want velvet and fine broadcloth to run about a farmyard, and race with the dogs, and shake down apples in the orchard, and roll on the grass. Eh, my boy?'It was thus it chanced that Robert the younger left his father's house. When the fortnight was over, Mr. Mostin asked permission to keep the child a little longer; then he formally proposed to take him altogether, pay for his education, and start him in the world.Mr. McCullagh made no objection. He knew well enough, if no one else did, there was that in Robert's nature which would divide them for ever, though one roof covered them though they ate at one table and sat in one room.'Ye can't do it,' he said, in answer to his relation's remark, that she did not think it was well to part brothers, or let a boy be brought up independent of his father. 'If two are so constituted it is just an impossibility they can run together, it's best they should run separate. And ye know ye couldn't get on with Robert, to say nothing of other matters. Ye would be for aye girding at the boy, and he would be for ever mocking you. It is in his blood and bone, and he can't help it. He'll be better with his grandfather; "like likes like," ye remember, and they'll suit one another to a turn.'All of which was so far true that Mr. Mostin and Robert agreed admirably; and that, at those convivial meetings when the ex-builder, no matter where he chanced temporarily to put up, gathered various choice and hilarious spirits around him, the boy was encouraged to give, not without success, such specimens of Miss Janet Nicol's accent and phraseology as delighted the table. Sometimes, emboldened by applause, Robert also ventured a sly imitation of his father's peculiarities, which were totally different from those of his kinswoman.On such occasions, Mr. Mostin, having generally partaken of more punch than was good for him, would rebuke the lad for 'daring to make game of his parent;' but, at the same time, Robert, seeing him winking at his boon companions, under-

stood clearly his grandfather enjoyed the 'representation,' and only mentioned he was doing wrong as a concession to the proprieties.In particular there were three Scotch songs the boy chanted with such inimitable gravity and precision, a whole company would be convulsed by the performance. Who knows? Perhaps while the droning melody continued, accompanied only by shrieks of laughter, Mr. Mostin felt at last ample measure was being dealt out to those who had not, he thought, dealt quite fairly with his daughter; and it is very certain the little lad went to rest after one of these exhibitions satisfied and happy, and feeling his mamma would have been pleased had she heard his accurate reproduction in the vernacular of 'Sir Patrick' and 'Auld lang syne.'There came a day, however, when Mr. Mostin, who happened about that period to be somewhat ailing and short of money, decided a stop must be put to Robert's performances.'You had best leave off all that sort of thing when we get back to London,' he said to the boy as they walked to the coach which was to convey them to town; 'you hardly know now when you are doing it, and you may get me and yourself too into trouble if anything of the kind should come round to your father's ears. When I can manage it I'll send you to school for a while, where I hope the master will find you something better to do than making game of your elders.''Nae doot,' answered Robert, running off to the other side of the road as he spoke, and laughing till the very birds ceased their songs to listen to him.He was nearly a year older then than when he first quitted Basinghall-street, strong, healthy, happy.'Such a pretty boy,' everybody said.'And a good boy, too,' his grandfather quickly added.In due time Robert went to a boarding-school; and Mr. Mostin, in the course of his business meeting with a certain nobleman possessed of very pronounced, if somewhat crude, ideas on the subjects of architecture and decoration, readily induced him to start a weekly journal, in which were explained and discussed at great length and expense the various crotchets agitating the lordly mind. It was about this period that, according to Mr. McCullagh, the builder 'lost his head.''It never was good for much,' opined his son-in-law; 'but it's clean gone now. Why, I met him to-day driving a cabriolet

down cheapside. He was smoking a cigar as big as a carrot; and he had a slip of a boy in top-boots, not a bit bigger than wee Archie, periling his life, holding on like grim death behind.'That was the golden summer-time of Mr. Mostin's existence. He did not do anything in it worthy the name of work; his name appeared on the outside page of the journal as a 'Consulting Builder,' in which character he was good enough to find fault with almost everything everybody else did. Mr. McCullagh was quite, right. His father-in-law had lost his head, and he never found that useful appendage again, till one day when news arrived at the publishing office of his patron's death.Then, as if by magic, all the clocks of the establishment ran down and were never wound up again; the editors, contributors, clerks, and errand-boys disappeared as quickly as though they had been touched by an enchanter's wand. The journal was offered for sale, and not a bid could be got for it; the shutters were put up, and bills posted all over them announcing the place was to let; in about forty-eight hours the premises had acquired a premature look of neglect and age; and at the end of the same period Mr. Mostin was offering his cab and high-stepping horse with plated harness, at a ruinous sacrifice, and the child in top-boots had gone crying home to his mother, knowing he would never again get such an easy place or indulgent master.Before all these events happened, Mr. Mostin had done two good things--he married an extremely practical and sensible woman, possessed of a small competence which neither he nor any creditor could touch; further, he had got Robert a very good situation in a merchant's office.'If you will go back to your own proper business, and stick to it,' said the sensible second wife, addressing her husband, 'and you,' turning to Robert, 'go on as well as you have been doing, we shall be able to make shift somehow. Of course I always knew we could not continue to live as we have been doing.''Mistress Mostin is letting lodgings, and he has taken a situation to look after dilapidations for a gentleman who owns a lot of property in Bermondsey,' explained Mr. McCullagh to Miss Nicol.'That's a bit of a come down, I'm thinking,' said that lady dryly.'They seem getting along pretty fair,' answered Mr. McCullagh.'Is Robert coming home?''No; I asked him, but he seemed like casting in his lot with them.''How is he getting on?''First-rate--better nor ever I expected he would get on at anything.'And so Robert continued to get on; spite of his father's doubts, no complaints of his son ever reached him. He appeared to give satisfaction to his employers, for, as time went by, they advanced him from post to post, at each change raising his salary.'Pousnetts set great store by Robert,' Mr. McCullagh was wont on such occasions to remark; to which Miss Nicol would reply, 'Ay, so it seems,' in a tone which committed her to nothing.The other sons were her favourites. Robert, with his handsome face and easy pleasant manners and southern tongue, might be somebody's fancy--'no doubt,' she thought, 'he is; but for her part give her the other lads--quiet and canny, and with no nonsense about them. There might be something in Robert that suited the English folks; but for her she felt misgivings.'Still, the years went by, and the young man's conduct justified none of her forebodings. He and his father came no nearer to each other; but she felt though Mr. McCullagh did not like, he was proud of, his first-born.When talking about his sons to strangers, he was apt to say they
had done wonderfully well, finishing with the remark, 'Pousnetts
thought a deal of his eldest. He's manager there, and they trust most
things to him.'Every man has his weakness. Mr. McCullagh in his heart did not care for or believe in his first-born, yet he liked thus to boast about him occasionally.When he saw him rushing out of bank-parlours, or stopped in the street and button-holed by the heads of large houses, he was wont to cast disparaging glances upon his son's superfine broadcloth, spotless linen, and carefully brushed hat, and murmur, 'Fine feathers make fine birds. It's to be hoped you'll never have your's plucked off your back;' but then he would return home and tell Miss Nicol how he had seen Robert 'at home amongst the best.''He had always high notions,' Miss Nicol invariably answered.And perhaps it was for this reason, whenever the young man entered his father's door, he seemed to bring the same repellent element with him across the threshold which he met upon it.CHAPTER V.
MR. POUSNETT REQUESTS THE PLEASURE.NOT even in the former days, when, after being turned out of the room for some childish misdemeanour, he stood on the landing and shook his little fist in impotent rage at the door just closed against him, had the younger Robert felt he hated his father with such a perfect hatred as when he left the house near Basinghall-street, to which he had gone so jubilantly on 'a fool's errand.'If Mr. McCullagh had considered for days and weeks how to mortify his son, he could not have devised a more perfect plan than that he got up on the spur of the moment. In the course of an interview which lasted little more than ten minutes, he managed to extol his own system of doing business, to depreciate that of other men, to cast a doubt on Pousnetts' solvency, to insinuate his son was no better than a simpleton, to cut the ground of supposed usefulness from under Robert's feet, and to suggest an awful idea which had not before occurred to the young man--namely, that if he failed to find seven thousand pounds in cash, or cash's equivalent, good bills, he would very likely--most likely, indeed--lose his berth, and find himself as completely out in the cold as had been the case in his childhood, when Mr. McCullagh was in the habit of saying,'If ye can't behave yourself, Robbie, ye had best leave the room. I can't have dour contrairy boys sulking where I am.'It all came back to him as he strode hurriedly up the court. Fast as he walked, the old, old times seemed to follow faster after him. His pretty indulgent mother, whose beauty was set amid such sordid surroundings; the meagre fires; the meagre meals; the wearisome supper-parties, which derived their only scintillation of amusement from 'toddy;' the quavering Scotch ballads; the decisive, yet drawling, Scotch accent; the cold of the house; its scanty furniture; the advent of Miss Nicol; his mother's death; the small lamentation which was

made about that event; the intensely Scotch gathering which partook of the funeral baked meats and 'drappies' of whisky; the instant changes which occurred in the household; the sudden disappearance of all the dead woman's little decorations; the swoop which was made upon her small vanities; the quarrels he and his father waged during his boyish visits home; the sneers at his grandfather's uppishness; the mock condolences when Mr. Mostin fell; the sarcasms, not always covert, at his own pretensions--as all these things rushed through his mind, the younger Robert hurried on as though, to quote one of his father's favourite phrases, 'the de'il were after him;' which, perhaps, indeed he was.As a rule, a man need have no worse devil at his heels than a weak ill-regulated mind.There was nothing less likely than that, in his present state of irritation, Robert junior would immediately bend his steps in the direction of his employers' office. With a feeling of the keenest disappointment distracting his heart, the young man traversed that nest of courts and alleys which still intervenes between Basinghall-street and Gutter-lane.Those alone who, in their extremity, when some grievous hour of need was just upon the point of striking, have turned out of the busy, bustling, noisy thoroughfares of London, thronged full of people, can understand the soothing effects produced upon young McCullagh's mind by Three Nuns-passage, or the narrow pavement around the church of St. Michael Bassishaw.By the time he reached Gutter-lane and was making his way back to Cheapside by Mitre-court, he felt able to face the position. Quiet London had laid her soothing hand upon him (and in the whole of Nature there is no such soother as London can be on occasion-at once an opiate and a tonic), and, though the trouble still remained, he felt he could go back and talk to Mr. Pousnett about it; tell him he must give up all idea of the partnership; that he had played the sole card he possessed, and lost his game.Pousnetts' firm carried on business in a court leading out of Leadenhall-street; they had the whole of the court to themselves, and even then their premises were not half large enough for the business they did. They owned Nos. 1 to 7 inclusive; and every inch of the premises was filled by clerks, packers, foremen, correspondents, and suchlike. A princely house Pousnetts' had once been styled; and Mr. Pousnett, the pre-

sent head of the firm, was reckoned in the City a most courtly gentleman. His appearance was one which commanded attention; his manners were in advance of that of any Lord Mayor, past or present. He did not patronise City tailors; and his dress was of a cut and style Lombard-street, with tardy halting steps, lagged after in vain.Pousnetts did business with all parts of the habitable globe. It was an old house, which had been in existence before George II. came to the throne, or Culloden was fought. No more respectable firm existed in the City of London. The world clearly understood when it put itself in Pousnetts' hands it would be well treated, and that it might relax a little of its customary suspicion in dealing with people who stood so far above all suspicion. Vain as Robert McCullagh happened to be, his own rapid advance in Pousnetts' house had surprised himself almost as much as it had done his father. He could ascribe it to no other cause than the liking Mr. Pousnett had conceived for him. Love begets love, we are told, and it was possible the young man's admiration of his chief, his slavish imitation of his dress and manner, his fixed belief that on the face of the earth no such house as Pousnetts' could be found, might have touched even the worldly heart of Herrion Pousnett. Ice was not colder or stone harder than that heart in reality; but it wore on the surface a pleasant air of sunny geniality. Mr. Pousnett had never been seen in an undignified rage; he never vituperated his clerks; he never signed angry letters; he never stormed and swore 'promiscuous,' like old Betterton in Tower-street, when business matters went wrong, or uninsured ships went to the bottom, or people failed and let the house in for what would have seemed great fortunes to smaller firms. Summer and winter, this good Christian's temper was always the same; his manners were uniformly suave; his course of proceeding dignifiedly respectable.When debtors did not pay he never troubled them or himself with unnecessary correspondence; he simply handed the matter to his solicitor, and said it had passed out of his control. The most severe thing he ever said about a persistent bore, with right on his side, was,'Do not let that person see me again.'Though not foremost, Mr. Pousnett was ever prominent in good works. He did not attend meetings or sit on committees; but he gave his cheque for most charitable purposes, which, in the opinion of various secretaries, answered all pur-

poses quite as well. He had a house at the West-end, and a pretty place on the Thames. In private life he did not affect business acquaintances. It was known at the office his daughters had their maids, and his sons their hunters. It was understood Mr. Pousnett's Christian name was derived from his mother's side of the house;. and that, in some remote way, he was through her allied to nobility--a stately gentleman as ever paced Leadenhall-street morning after morning, and affably returned the respectful greetings of his clerks, and opened the letters laid upon his table without haste or anxiety, or the slightest dread as to what the envelopes might contain.In striking contrast all this to the proceedings in that other court off Basinghall-street, to the primitive manners, the broad Scotch speech, the keen cynical tongue of 'auld Rab' and his awkward squad of Northern followers, not one of whom had been trained, or could have been trained, in that school of politeness it was the glory of Pousnetts' young men to belong to, and their study and ambition to maintain intact.And it was in such a house as this young Robert might, but for his father's absurd prejudices, have been partner; there he had the opportunity of hanging up his hat for life, and yet could not avail himself of the offer. Well, it was not his fault; if he had been constituted differently, perhaps his father would have helped him: but, save in a spiritual sense, a man cannot be born again, and if he could, Robert McCullagh felt very sure no number of fresh births were likely to make him resemble the Scotch merchant's idea of human perfection.No, it was all over, and he would tell Mr. Pousnett so at once. No object could be gained by delaying his communication.It was with a very dejected mien that, after knocking at the door of the great man's room, Robert entered the apartment he had hoped, but a few hours previously, soon to be free of. Mr. Pousnett had already got on his top-coat, and was looking into his hat, as is the custom of men, before covering his head. He did not glance round as the manager entered; he merely said, 'Well, what is it?''I only wanted to speak to you, sir,' answered young McCullagh; but I see you are going, and I will not detain you. To-morrow--the next day--any time will do.''I am n no hurry,' answered Mr. Pousnett pleasantly. 'I was only going because there seemed nothing more to do here; what did you want to say to me?'Certainly a polished gentleman in appearance, manner, and speech; so polished, and so dissimilar from Mr. McCullagh, it was difficult for a moment to realise they belonged to the same species.'I have spoken to my father, sir.''Yes?' How different that yes sounded from the same word when used interrogatively by 'plain old Rab'! Nothing harsh or querulous about it in this case; it merely seemed musically to lead the listener on to the next portion of his theme.'And I must give up all idea of availing myself of your kindness. He won't help me in the least.''That is bad,' replied Mr. Pousnett. 'I am very sorry to hear such news. Tell me what passed. Sit down;' and the great man laid aside his hat, unbuttoned his top-coat, and resumed the chair he had so lately quitted.It was not in the least degree difficult to talk to Mr. Pousnett: many men, indeed, had, at one time or other, found cause to curse the fatal facility with which speech seemed to flow from their lips in his presence; for Mr. Pousnett never forgot anything: the most careless sentence uttered in his hearing remained stamped in his memory, and was apt to be recalled to the speaker long after his random utterance had faded from his mind.In five minutes, nay in two, Robert put him in possession of his father's views on things in general, his opinion of Mr. Pousnett's offer, and his determination neither to mull nor meddle in the matter.'I might have had a chance if it had not been for Kenneth,' finished the young man gloomily; and it is to be feared, in his heart, at that moment, he wished anything but good to that more fortunate individual.'Kenneth! who is Kenneth?' asked Mr. Pousnett, rousing himself from a reverie into which he seemed to have fallen.'My brother, sir, the one I told you about who--''Who is to have the three thousand pounds and the pretty wife?' interrupted Mr. Pousnett, laughing. 'I understand now; only you did not mention his name when speaking about him. A very fortunate fellow indeed, and I wish him all success in his business, and happiness in his marriage. By the way, what is the name of his future father-in-law?''Johnstone, sir--V. Johnstone & Son of Liverpool. The head of the firm must have been dead this hundred years, I think, for the present man looks about two centuries old,''V. Johnstone,' repeated Mr. Pousnett; 'do you mean Vincent Johnstone of Old Hall-street?''His place is in Old Hall-street,' conceded Robert gloomily.'Then your brother has stepped into a good thing, a remarkably good thing,' said Mr. Pousnett thoughtfully, 'and I heartily wish him joy. A house in a small way, perhaps; but safe. I know no firm which, in its degree, stands higher. I am not surprised at your father's pleasure, particularly as it costs him nothing.''It would be a most remarkable thing which could please my father if it did cost anything,' said Robert, in a tone of conviction.'I do not wonder at his refusal to assist you in the face of such a windfall as that you mention,' went on Mr. Pousnett blandly.'O sir,' pleaded young McCullagh, 'I wish you would not mention this business and old Johnstone's in the same breath!''I am not comparing them,' said Mr. Pousnett benignantly. 'I was only trying to put myself in your father's place for a moment--trying to look with his eyes, and understand what he must feel. He seems to be, if somewhat narrow in his views, a most astute man--so far as he goes a most remarkable man.'Robert looked at his principal to see if he were in jest; on the contrary, Mr. Pousnett's face wore an expression of anxious and perplexed consideration.'A most remarkable man. I should like to know him personally;' and here he paused again, whilst young McCullagh, fairly lost in amazement, started with all his might at the countenance of his chief.It is the specialty of fools that they ever fail to grasp the fact of unlikely men being wise.Robert had always thought his father sharp, shrewd, mean, quick at a bargain, in a pottering sort of way a keen man of business; but it had never before, never once, occurred to him he was clever. Mr. Mostin was his ideal of a clever fellow. 'Lord bless you,' Robert would say, 'drop him where you like and he'll drop on his feet. Only think of all the misfortune he has passed through, and how no sooner did he find one door shut before he found another open! I never saw such a man: full of resources, ready to turn his hand to anything;' and all the while he contrasted his father with this paragon, and thought in his heart, 'Ah, if Mr. Mostin only had the business

in Basinghall-street, what would he not make of it!' utterly ignoring the fact that the ex-builder was one of those men who eventually make ducks and drakes of most businesses, and who, while an admirable manager in theory of their fellows' concerns, never prove equal in the long-run to managing their own.'I do not think,' resumed Mr. Pousnett, after a pause, 'your father can have grasped all the advantages which would accrue to you and his other sons were he to put you in the way of accepting my offer.'I am sure he has not, sir,' answered Robert; 'and what is more, he never will.''That is to be seen,' said Mr. Pousnett, leaning back in his chair, and half closing his eyes as he spoke. 'I think I must take him in hand. I want to have you as one of the house,' he added, with a delightful smile (people said Mr. Pousnett's smile was to him what the angel's veil of moss was to the rose); 'but I am determined you shall not enter it empty-handed.''I quite understand that, sir,' said Robert, in a downhearted manner; 'and I assure you I left nothing unsaid I considered likely to move my father to compliance. It was all to no purpose, however; I might just as well, better, have held my tongue; and so I have given up all thoughts of it, sir, and--and--I have nothing more to say,' finished Robert, dejectedly rising as he spoke, and pushing his chair as far as it would go under the table in a crazy absent-minded sort of manner.Mr. Pousnett watched this manoeuvre curiously. There could be no doubt that the son at least understood the value what he was losing.'You have quite interested me in your father,' he said at last. 'I feel I must make his acquaintance. I will call upon him; no, I will ask him to dinner--cut his mutton with me, eh?--and we'll talk the matter over exhaustively, after we have finished cutting our mutton.''To dinner, sir? I don't think you exactly understand,' stammered Robert. 'My father is not exactly--don't press me--Mr. Pousnett, please to say what I mean!''He is not exactly like anybody else, I suppose,' said the great merchant, laughing; 'indeed I am very sure that he is quite different from most people. I must know him. I regret extremely no opportunity has before presented itself of making his acquaintance. I will write and ask him to dine with me; then we can talk this matter over.''I do not think, sir, you have any idea of what my father really is,' said Robert resolutely.'I hope soon to have the pleasure of knowing,' was the reply.'An angel could not lead and the devil could not drive him,' persisted young McCullagh doggedly.'I have no gift either for leading or driving,' said Mr. Pousnett; 'but I mean to make your father's acquaintance, and hope our intimacy may prove profitable to both. Of course I shall expect the pleasure of your company on the same evening, this day week at seven;' and this time Mr. Pousnett put on his hat, opened the door, and walked, deferentially followed by Robert, across the office to the street, where, bidding his manager good-night, he passed out into the gas-illumined darkness of a November night.Mr. Pousnett was not a man who ever let grass grow under his feet; and accordingly next day at breakfast Mr. McCullagh, sitting down to his porridge as a preliminary to the tea, fried bacon, and bread he had to follow, received a missive sealed with a great seal, bearing sundry heraldic devices intelligible only to the King-at-Arms.'Bless and save us all, what's this?' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, whose eye was caught by the bold caligraphy and the pretentious coat of arms. 'It must be from the Lord Mayor at the very least! What an awfu' waste o' wax, to be sure!''It is a grand seal, though,' said Miss Nicol, taking up the envelope which Mr. McCullagh had tossed aside. 'Look, Effie, can you make out the words underneath? They're Latin, I am almost certain.'By this time Mr. McCullagh had mastered the contents of the epistle, which he laid face downwards on the table.'I'll give ye,' he remarked, commencing at the same moment a vigorous attack upon the basin of porridge which stood smoking at his elbow, I'll give ye three guesses to say who that letter is from.''Maybe from the Lord Mayor himself,' hazarded Miss Nicol.'Or Prince Albert,' conjectured Effie.'Or the Emperor of the French,' said Miss Nicol.'That is three among ye,' remarked Mr. McCullagh, chuckling; 'and all wrong. No, ye'd never guess if ye sat trying for a twelvemonth. It is from Robert's employer.''What's wrong now?' asked Miss Nicol; 'I thought he seemed sort of uneasy last evening.''Did ye?' commented Mr. McCullagh dryly. 'Well, there is nothing wrong. All the man says is, "Will ye take a knife and fork with us this day week in Portman-square?"''That is good joke, too!' said Miss Nicol.Never for an instant did that worthy lady think the statement other than a piece of the 'wut' in which it pleased the Scotchman occasionally to indulge.'Joke! it is no joke,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'It is as civil a note as ever I read, and as well put together. What he says in effect is, Will ye take pot-luck with us in a homely friendly sort of way?''But ye'll not go,' assumed Miss Nicol, jumping to conclusions too hastily, as her sex are wont to do.'I don't know that,' answered her relative, who, indeed, till that moment, had not entertained an idea of accepting the invitation. 'Why wouldn't I go? What for should I affront the man by declining what no doubt is weel meant.''There is no reason, of course,' acquiesced Miss Nicol; 'only I thought ye didn't much care to consort with such grand folks.''It is not consorting with grand folks to once and away put my legs under their mahogany. I supped last night with Kenneth's master, and a right good tumbler of toddy he gave us. I may just as well eat my dinner with Robert's master. I never have seen him, and I am a bit curious to see him.'' Here is Robert,' said Effie at this juncture; and almost as she spoke the door opened and that young man himself appeared.'Find yourself a place!' cried Mr. McCullagh effusively. 'The tea is mashing; ye'll take a cup, won't ye?''I breakfasted an hour ago, thank you,' answered Robert, finding himself a place, however, as desired.'Ye ken,' said Miss Nicol, who never lost an opportunity of dealing the young man a back-handed blow,' he doesn't think our brew strong enough.''On the contrary,' Robert replied, 'I generally find it far too strong--bitter. I do not think tea ought to stand a minute.''Hoots!' cried Mr. McCullagh, 'how would ye ever get the good out of it if ye didn't let it stand? But tea is not the question now. I have just got a letter from your master asking me to dine with him.''He told me he meant to ask you last night,' said Robert, whose sole motive in coming round had been to ascertain whether Mr. Pousnett had carried his project into effect.'And your father is going,' said Miss Nicol suggestively.'Who told ye I was going?' inquired Mr. McCullagh. 'I asked ye what would hinder me to go, and I said I might as well eat my dinner with him as my supper with old Johnstone, and that I was a bit curious to see the gentleman; but I never said I had just made up my mind.''You won't go, though, of course,' remarked his son carelessly. 'I told him it was of no use asking you.''And why did ye tell him anything of the sort, and what should hinder me going? To hear ye both talk, any one might think it was an invitation from Windsor Castle that had come instead of a friendly note from a merchant like myself.''You mistake me, father,' said Robert, though, indeed, his father had not mistaken him in the least. 'All I meant was that, as you do not care much for visiting out of your immediate circle of acquaintances, I thought you would not fancy going so far as Portman-square; and besides--''Besides what?' asked Mr. McCullagh sharply.'All those sort of people dress for dinner,' explained Robert desperately, 'and I did not know whether you had any clothes just suitable to go in.''What's the matter with my clothes?' cried Mr. McCullagh, glancing first over one shabby shoulder and then over its fellow. 'I am sure this is a good enough coat for all ordinary purposes; but I have a better, Robert, don't be uneasy. If ye never have to put up with any more discredit than your father brings upon ye, ye'll have no cause of complaint;' and having so spoken, Mr. McCullagh handed his empty basin to Effie, who removed it to the sideboard, and then brought a plate of bacon that had been simmering in front of the fire, which she placed before her benefactor.'Try a wee, Robert,' said Mr. McCullagh hospitably. But Robert in answer only shook his head; he felt, indeed, at that moment as though food would choke him.'Then I can tell Mr. Pousnett he may expect to see you,' he observed after a second's pause.'Ye'll tell him nothing whatsoever from me,' answered Mr. McCullagh, discussing his bacon. 'I am not so helpless but I can answer my letters for myself, and make up my mind for myself too.''I meant no offence, sir.''And I have taken none,' was the quick reply.'If you decide upon accepting the invitation, will you let me know? Mr. Pousnett has asked me as well, and we could go together.''I'll communicate with ye,' promised Mr. McCullagh: and having gained no single point save this, Robert, muttering something about being late at the office, took his leave.'Mr. Pousnett seems to set great store by him,' remarked Miss Nicol, as the sound of the young man's footsteps upon the stairs died away.'There's no reason why he shouldn't,' retorted Mr. McCullagh, who was great in opposition. 'Where would ye meet a straighter, better-built, better-looking, better-spoken young man than my son Robert? He's just a credit, even pheesically speaking, to any house. So far as looks are concerned, ye must admit, Janet, he's the pick of my sons. What do ye say, Effie?'But Effie, who had stolen across the room to watch Robert's retreating figure till he turned the angle of the court, kept her face fastened upon the window-pane, and affected not to hear.CHAPTER VI.
A FAMILY PARTY.THE eventful evening arrived. Duly and truly Mr. McCullagh had signified his intention of making one at Mr. Pousnett's social board; and it is not too much to say that, during the days which ensued after his parent's decision was made known to him, the younger Robert suffered agonies.'Mentally he beheld his father in every likely and unlikely social scrape; clearly he heard every intonation of that remarkable accent grate upon his ear; in imagination he saw that mean ill-clad figure surrounded by rank, fashion, and those who were to the manner born. He fancied how the servants would stare at him; how the ladies would start at sound of a voice little, if any, sweeter than his national bagpipes; how Mr. Pousnett would repent his rashness; how he, Robert, would be covered with shame, and feel disposed to request the earth to open and swallow him up.That fickle jade Ideality, which will not answer to our call when most we desire her company, and insists on keeping step with us when we wish her miles away, never quitted Robert's side; she was for ever presenting to his consideration some almost impossible dilemma, and playing him even in sleep some scurvy trick, such as setting Mr. McCullagh down to dinner in his hat or without his coat, or making him insist on a 'cut of beef' while fish was still in progress.It was only a week from the first intimation of that trouble till its consummation; yet, during the progress of that week, Robert fell away in flesh, and his face grew peaked and anxious. Mr. Pousnett beheld and smiled in private, but said nothing. Long before, he had taken the measure of his manager, and knew how to fit him like a glove.All his trouble, however, had not prevented the younger McCullagh ordering a quite new suit of clothes, in which, well covered from sight by a top-coat closely buttoned, he appeared at the paternal mansion a little after six o'clock.'You do look a swell, Robert,' said Miss Nicol, regarding with no particular favour the young man, who, standing uncovered in the dreary sitting-room, could not conceal his curly hair fresh from an artist's hand, his bright boots, his faultless collar, his white tie; 'doesn't he, Effie?' But Effie, who had been feasting her eyes upon this spectacle of manly beauty again made no direct answer. Muttering something about her uncle, as she called Mr. McCullagh, wanting her, she hurried from the room, only to encounter that sage individual on the threshold.'I am quite ready, Robert,' said Mr. McCullagh, coming briskly forward.Like another famous personage,
'He was drest in his Sunday's best;'
and Robert, as he surveyed his parent, had never felt so near liking him before. He had never thought the 'sweetstuff-man,' as some persons called him, could have looked, not merely so decent, but so presentable.Though Mr. McCullagh wore his clothes almost to the last thread, he always bought them of the best materials; and the consequence of this was that the coat, which he kept for attending funerals, was of a quality neither tailor nor flunky could gainsay.If it lacked the cut Robert's own swallow-tail boasted, it was perhaps more suitable to the rô of a successful City man. There was an amplitude about its skirts which suggested a good balance at the bank; and in the loosely-tied bow of Mr. McCullagh's washing neckerchief there was a defiance and an indifference a Rothschild or a great financier might have envied.He had oiled his sandy hair, and shaven himself even cleaner than usual; into his manner he had imported a certain festivity of demeanour, which his son remembered well as an adjunct to those supper-parties where Scottish songs and Scottish anecdotes beguiled the length of an otherwise tedious evening; there was a scent of Windsor soap, and a perfume of fragrant linen and broadcloth laid aside with lavender-bags between, that seemed grateful to the younger man.Inwardly he thanked his father for what he could not but consider concessions; it was really good of him, he felt. Perhaps, after all, he was reconsidering that matter of the seven thousand pounds!'Shall I get a cab, sir?' asked Robert, who had indeed brought his boots by that means spotless to the top of the court.'A caub!' repeated Mr. McCullagh. 'The Lord presairve us, Robert, are ye mad? A caub, and the night fine and the stars shining! No, no, I am not just so tired of my hard-airned sixpences as to throw them away that gait.''I only thought we might be a trifle late,' said Robert hypocritically. 'Time is getting on.''Let it,' observed Mr. McCullagh; 'we'll be at Portman-square well within the hour. Good-night, Janet,' he went on; good-night, Effie. It'll be on to eleven before I'm back. Don't lose your beauty sleep, either of ye, for me.'Gaunt and erect stood Miss Nicol during the progress of this amiable speech; meek and drooping, Effie.'Good-night, Effie,' said Robert kindly, with a feeling for the moment stirring his heart that the girl's life was lonely and unnatural. 'Good-night, and be sure you don't forget the beauty sleep.''Ay, ay, mind that,' added Mr. McCullagh, groping his way down the grand old staircase, lighted by the mournful gleam of one sad dip held aloft by Effie on the landing.Never had Robert known his father talk so much to him as while they stepped briskly down Basinghall-street side by side. With his work-a-day suit Mr. McCullagh seemed to have doffed his ordinary manner, and discoursed on all sorts of subjects till Old Jewry was passed and Cheapside reached, and it became necessary to concentrate his attention on stopping a Baker-street omnibus.No poor wretch who ever traveled the West-end route, surrounded with much state and circumstance, to Tyburn, experienced a greater sinking of the heart than young McCullagh, as the vehicle bumped and jolted along.The demons exorcised for a few minutes came back now accompanied by legions of fresh doubts and fears.Would his father expect the company to sit round the table and sing songs when dinner was finished, as had been the wont at those supper-parties Robert remembered as a boy? Would he, in the plenitude of his jocularity, ask Miss Pousnett to give them a stave? would he tell Mr. Pousnett, if he declared he had no voice, he would be let off with a good story or a bit of recitation extracted from Whistle Binkie? would he propose a toast, and suggest it should be drunk Highland fashion, by

the gentlemen guests standing on their chairs and planting one foot upon the table? would he act as fugleman, and lead on the cheering? All these things, and many more, had Robert beheld, and he turned literally sick as he reflected what might be in store for him.'You're no looking just the thing to-night,' observed Mr. McCullagh, as the omnibus drew up at Oxford-circus and the light from a lamp fell full upon his son's face.'I have not felt well for some days past,' was the answer.'I think ye are a bit over-anxious,' said his father. 'If ye would take a word of advice from me, don't fret about the matter. Supposing the offer does come to nothing, some day maybe ye'll see it was all for the best;' from which cheering remark Robert gathered the seven thousand pounds was as far from him as ever.'I am not fretting about that,' said the young man.'What are ye fretting about, then?''I don't know that I am fretting about anything;' and then the omnibus jogging on again, conversation became difficult.The door of Mr. Pousnett's house in Portman-square was opened by a butler whose grave and dignified demeanour seemed to impress even Mr. McCullagh with a feeling of solemnity. No archbishop ever comported himself with greater stateliness. The way in which he assisted the elder guest off with his coat and relieved him of his hat was a study; the hushed and suave voice that asked, 'What name, sir?' was one never to be forgotten.As he might have gone to the scaffold, Robert ascended the stairs, which were covered with carpeting that felt like moss beneath his feet. He went so slowly, his father, who had skipped lightly on before him, had to pause on the landing; whilst the butler, who stood with the handle of the drawing-room door clasped in his fingers, looked upon the younger man's tardiness of progress more in sorrow than in anger.'Mr. McCullagh--Mr. Robert McCullagh,' announced the butler, flinging wide the door.It was done; the axe had fallen; the Rubicon was passed; they were in the bosom of the Pousnett family; their first experience of high society had commenced.In the most genial manner Mr. Pousnett came forward to greet his guests. He was delighted to make Mr. McCullagh's acquaintance; he was charmed to see him in his house; he felt his coming all the greater honour because he understood

that, like a wise man, Mr. McCullagh thought there was no place like home.'Let me introduce you to my wife,' he said; an attention Mrs. Pousnett declared was quite unnecessary, 'for I feel,' added that lady, who weighed about twenty stone, and had that dulcet smoothness of tone and manner which distinguishes fat people, 'as if we were old acquaintances. Come and sit near me, Mr. McCullagh, pray do. This, is my eldest daughter. You do not know Mr. Stoddard, or Captain Crawford;' and as she mentioned each name she dexterously made Mr. McCullagh known to its possessor. 'And now we can talk comfortably. What lovely weather this is for the time of year! O, by the bye, I have not spoken to your son. Mr. Robert, I hope you will excuse my rudeness;' and again rising, she shook hands with her husband's manager in a very gracious manner.And yet Robert had never felt himself so utterly a subordinate as at that moment.After a short time two other young ladies entered the room, who were mentioned respectively as 'my niece Miss Vanderton, and my daughter Maude.' The party now seemed complete, and Mr. McCullagh, who was seated beside his charming hostess in the full glare of an immense fire, began to wonder when dinner would be served.A mingled odour of many good things had greeted his it nostrils as he entered the hall, and as, looking forward to the evening's dinner, he contented himself with a mere snack in the middle of the day, he was beginning to feel hungry.Proverbially there is no worse quarter of an hour than that which now ensued; and though Mrs. Pousnett did her best and Mr. Pousnett exerted himself to the utmost, it was a very bad time which intervened between the announcement of the guests and the reappearance of the butler on the evening that proved the turning-point in young McCullagh's life.To his amazement, Robert found he was far less at ease than his father; that the latter took all the ease and luxury and magnificence of the house as mere matters of course, and viewed with the indifference of a Red Indian hangings and Pictures and statues and screens and knickknacks that he himself was forced to glance at surreptitiously, his gaze seeming to be attracted to them by some power much stronger than his own will. Very good-naturedly the eldest daughter took pity on him, and invited his attention to some wonderful Indian carvings that ornamented a side-table; then she took him to the

conservatory, which led out of the back drawing-room, and they talked about flowers, of which Robert knew but little, till they were joined by their hostess and Mr. McCullagh, who, it turned out, was much more at home in Flora's domain than his son.He had seen good gardens in his youth, and remembered what he had seen. He was able to talk about the Duke of Hamilton's hot-houses in Arran, and the ferns and heather he had gathered in that island when he was young. He knew the names of many of the plants in the conservatory which were strange to his son, and could give Miss Pousnett a hint as to the mode of striking myrtles so as to insure their blooming.Knowledge of any kind is sure to make its way, perhaps for the reason that, as a rule, people know remarkably little; and before she swept down the stairs to dinner, leaning on his arm, Mrs. Pousnett, who was a remarkably astute lady, understood Robert McCullagh was a well-meaning good-looking goose, while his father possessed all the brains of which the young man was destitute.What a fairy-scene that dining-room seemed to Robert! Its warmth, its comfort, the subdued lights, the appointments of the table, the silver, the glass, the china, the snowy damask, the noiseless and perfect attendance, the dresses of the ladies, the quiet repose of their manners: he had never seen anything like it before in all his life, and it came upon him with a new pang that such an existence might be his if only his father would listen to reason. As he thought of this, Robert looked very steadily at the author of his being, and was fain to confess he had never beheld a man less likely to be coerced or flattered into any course of action than the architect and builder of his own fortunes.Amongst all that grandeur he sat unmoved as the Sphinx in the desert. There must have been things in connection with such a meal to try the equanimity of a man whose own domestic arrangements had always been of the roughest and readiest description; but Mr. McCullagh might have been sitting at great men's feasts all his life for aught any one could from his manner have told to the contrary; at any critical period one glance around told him what others were doing, and seemed to give him the needful hint. Robert, had he been gifted with a spirit of prescience, might have saved himself much unnecessary anguish of mind. Whatever the father might feel, the son looked by far the more awkward. In his

attempts at conversation with the daughters of the house, in his answers to Mr. Pousnett's remarks, in his evident fear of doing that which he ought not to do, and leaving something undone which he should subsequently call to remembrance with burning cheeks, Robert McCullagh was as evidently out of his element in Mr. Pousnett's dining-room as he felt in the paternal parlour.Setting aside all social reasons for these results, the young man was anxious and nervous as to the upshot of the evening's proceedings. Would or would not his father be led to see the error of his ways, and delightedly make himself responsible for the seven thousand pounds? Would the wealth and the grandeur and the kindness and the deference induce him to alter his decision? Would his pride be touched, his vanity flattered, his reason be convinced? Robert did not believe it. With a fainting spirit he addressed himself to the dinner, to which he brought but scanty appetite, and with all his heart and with all his soul wished the whole thing over.Mr. McCullagh, on the other hand, was quite at his ease; he was passing through no alternations of hope and fear; he had quite made up his mind on the subject at issue, and so felt able to devote himself to doing the agreeable.Captain Crawford had not long before been stationed in Edinburgh--indeed, he was of Scotch extraction--and he and the merchant talked of many things, in which Mrs. Pousnett also professed the keenest interest.'We have spent some most delightful months in Scotland one time or another,' she was good enough to say. 'I always tell my husband there is no place like it.''And ye're very right,' remarked Mr. McCullagh. 'Where would ye find a town like Edinbro', for instance, or, just to go further, any scenery like that of the Clyde? Have you seen the Holy Loch? No! And I mind me ye said ye had been to Arran.''But we know the Burns country,' pleaded the lady in extenuation.'And have ye stood on the very spot, mem,' said Mr. McCullagh, warming to his work, 'where the witches got hold of Meg's tail, and pulled it right away from--Ahem!' coughed the North-countryman, remembering just in time that the broad speech of his earlier youth might be somewhat out of place in Portman-square and the presence of ladies.Mrs. Pousnett, however, took no notice of his confusion.'I think we saw everything,' she said: 'the thorn-tree and the place where--what was her name?--hung herself; the old ruin where I could really conjure up that weird company--see the Evil One playing jigs, and Cutty Sark capering away to the delight of Tam peeping through the window. It is a most eerie place. Do you know, I dreamt of that old churchyard for nights afterwards.''For my part,' said Captain Crawford, 'I like Edinburgh better than any other portion of Scotland. Scott has invested the city and its environs with a charm it must retain so long as the ruthless hand of improvement passes it by. I never wearied of walking over Arthur's Seat, or exploring the Canon-gate, or mooning about Holyrood Palace. If it had not been for the hope of being ordered abroad, I should have quite lamented returning to London.''Are ye expecting marching orders, then?' asked Mr. McCullagh, who was amongst other things a keen politician.'Sailing orders,' amended the officer. 'Yes, I trust we shall be sent to the Crimea ere long. It is dreadful to stay here idle, and think of all that is going on there now.'He had struck the right vein; as the war-horse rushes to the battle, Mr. McCullagh plunged into the conversational abyss thus opened. With his keen eyes growing keener, with his sandy hair seeming to bristle like that of a rough terrier, with his heart on his lips and his soul in his face, the merchant held forth on the weakness, folly, incapacity of the Government.'Every man of them ought to be indicted for murder,' he said; 'not manslaughter, but murder. They'll make England the byword of the world. I wonder what will be said in nineteen hundred and fifty-four, when people read how the best and bravest were left to die like cattle? And all for what? That red tape might assert its supremacy, and a wheen idle young puppies in Government offices make it appear as if they had something really to do.''I am quite with you there,' said Captain Crawford, as if at some far-away point he meant to differ from the speaker in toto.'Now, Captain, pray do not disturb the peace of the household by introducing politics,' entreated Mrs. Pousnett. 'Mr. McCullagh, may I beg of you to abandon the Eastern Question?' and the lady laid a persuasive hand, on which glittered many rings, on the merchant's arm as she spoke. 'If you

knew, if you only knew the dread I have of hearing the word Crimea, you would pity me, I am quite sure.''I can't say I think ye are alone in that dread,' observed Mr. McCullagh dryly.'There now, I felt sure you would agree with me,' she said, in so far as this,. at all events, that politics are better absent from the dinner-table. You have no appetite,' she went on, with a bland smile. 'Is there nothing that you like?''I have done very well, thank ye,' answered Mr. McCullagh, who had marked with amazement Mrs. Pousnett's gastronomic capabilities.At that moment the lady took a goodly helping of cabinet pudding, remarking as she did so,'It is said, I believe, that fat people are, as a rule, small eaters: if you ever hear that again, Mr. McCullagh, don't believe it.''I won't, mem,' he agreed, with a readiness quite unexpected.It was irresistible. Mrs. Pousnett laughed, her daughters laughed, Captain Crawford laughed, and finally Mr. McCullagh himself joined in.'I would beg your pardon if it had not been your own fault,' he said, when the merriment subsided.'I do not think it was any one's fault,' Mrs. Pousnett replied, laughing again, and then fanning herself vigorously.At length the dinner came to an end, the cloth had been drawn--incredible as it may sound nowadays, cloths were drawn six-and-twenty years ago--dessert had been partaken of, the ladies had retired, and then Mr. Pousnett, passing a decanter of fine old port towards Mr. McCullagh, said he thought he would find that a wine to his taste.'It is verra good,' answered the guest, taking a sip out of his glass; 'sound, and of a rare vintage. But I tell ye fairly, Mr. Pousnett, in my opinion there never was the wine bottled could compare with old Glenlivat.''There is no Glenlivat in the house,' answered Mr. Pousnett; 'but I have some Bushmills that is beyond dispute. Touch the bell, Charlie, will you?' he said to Mr. Stoddard who evidently stood high in his good graces. 'No, no, Mr. McCullagh, let me have my way, please. It was stupid of me not to think of it before.'So the whisky was brought by the butler, who looked as if he had never seen spirits in his life before, and who would--

judging from externals--no more have thought of entering a public-house than a bishop might have done. To Robert's great relief both Mr. Pousnett and Captain Crawford 'mixed' for themselves, just, as the gallant officer remarked, to keep Mr. McCullagh company; and when he and Mr. Stoddard declined to join in such wild festivity, the Scotchman made no remark save one disparaging to their heads, repeating at the same time the old advice concerning not sitting with their backs to the fire, or mixing their liquors.After a time Mr. Stoddard seemed to get very tired of the whole affair, and hinted to Robert they at least could join the ladies. Nothing loth, the manager availed himself of the opening thus afforded, and ascended with his companion to the enchanted regions above blessed with the presence of lovely women.Ere long Captain Crawford followed their example, and Robert then knew the eventful moment had come. Probably at that instant Mr. Pousnett was breaking the ice. Well, nothing good would come of it--of so much he felt certain.In a kind of stupid despair he glanced around the paradise out of which he was to be cast for ever.The mirrors, the rich hangings, the soft carpets, the deep luxurious easy-chairs, the subdued light, the leaping fire, the pictures, the ornaments, the statuettes, the numberless adjuncts which make up what is called the furniture of a modern drawing-room, mingled altogether as in a dream before his eyes. There were the perfumes of flowers too, and the tones of music. These were the surroundings amid which the Pousnetts and thousands like them lived every day; and he, Robert, might have been one of that happy band--not a chief, perhaps, but a happy subordinate--if Heaven had only gifted his father with what the young man mentally styled 'common sense and notions like other people.'The young ladies played and sang. Mrs. Pousnett from the depths of an armchair addressed at intervals some pleasant remark to a guest she could not but see was ill at ease. Mr. Stoddard and Captain Crawford concentrated their attentions on the daughters of the house, and Miss Vanderton. It was an awful time of suspense to Robert, worse than any quarter of an hour before dinner ever endured by hostess; the minutes went by slowly, coffee was carried round, time passed on at a funereal pace. At last there was the sound of voices on the staircase, the drawing-room door opened, and Mr. McCullagh, followed by Mr. Pousnett, entered the apartment.Robert looked at his father--he was wonderfully brisk and gay in his demeanour; then his glance travelled to Mr. Pousnett, whose face wore an expression of the blandest serenity. Mr. McCullagh went direct to the fireplace, and began to talk to his hostess concerning some knitting which she was holding in her taper fingers.'Why,' she said, laughing, 'it seems to me you know something of everything. Now my husband is unable to tell knitting from netting, and can recognise no difference between crochet and tatting. How is it you understand such matters?''I suppose it is because I have aye kept my eyes open,' answered Mr. McCullagh modestly. 'That is a nice song your daughter is singing;' and he turned his head slightly on one side to listen.'She knows several Scotch ballads,' remarked Mrs. Pousnett suggestively.'Does she, now!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh.'Yes; and she will sing one for you if you ask her.''I will do that,' was the eager answer; and Mr. McCullagh moved with the quick sidling walk which was one of his peculiarities towards the grand piano, where Mr. Pousnett already stood conversing in a low tone with Mr. Stoddard.Miss Pousnett's song finished, Mr. McCullagh preferred his petition. If she could give him just one of the ballads of his native land, he'd be thankful. He could fancy how that lovely voice of hers would sound in 'The Land o' the Leal' or 'A wee bird cam' to my hall-door.''I'll sing anything you like that I happen to have, Mr. McCullagh,' replied that young lady pleasantly. ('No saying I canna or I wunna about her,' as Mr. McCullagh explained afterwards.) 'What shall it be?' She went on turning over the leaves of a music-book handed to her by Captain Crawford. 'There are a great many Scottish ballads in this.'And Miss Pousnett has been good enough to let me teach her the proper pronunciation,' observed Captain Crawford.That's a verra important point,' said Mr. McCullagh gravely.'How  can he go on talking such nonsense,' thought Robert, 'while I am fretting my life out on the hearth-rug?'Finally a song was selected, one Mr. McCullagh was good enough to tell the company he had not heard for forty years--'Flora Macdonald's Lament'--and forthwith Miss Pousnett commenced her accompaniment, her latest admirer beating

time all wrong, as people do beat it with hand and foot and head, the while he kept an appreciative eye on her profile.Just as she sang the first bar Mr. Pousnett made the slightest possible sign to his manager, and walking towards the conservatory, stood looking at the flowers with apparently absorbed attention till Robert joined him.'It is best to put you out of your misery at once,' began the great merchant; 'your father won't listen to my proposition.''I knew he would not,' said the young man, in an access of despair.'Well, I thought he would; but I am forced to confess you were right and I wrong. He is a wonderfully clever man, would be a delightful man to do business with, only--''He is as obstinate as a pig,' broke in Robert angrily.'I did not mean to say that,' observed Mr. Pousnett; 'but he is prejudiced--very; and owing, I suppose to the limited circle in which he has moved, his view, both of men and things, is narrow.''I should think so,' agreed Mr. McCullagh's son, with scornful emphasis.'I confess I did not believe the man lived who could have been blind to the advantages of a partnership in our house,' went on Mr. Pousnett.'There is not another man living who would be blind to them but himself,' said Robert.'However, I feel the matter is at an end now,--that he will never reconsider his decision.''No, that he will not,' acquiesced the other mournfully.'I think you believe I have done all I could for you.''I am sure you have, sir; and I can never feel sufficiently grateful for your kindness.''Thank you for saying so; it makes what I have to observe not quite so difficult of utterance.''Yes, sir.' Robert spoke firmly, but his very heart died away within him.'It is this,' proceeded Mr. Pousnett, stooping over a rose as he spoke. 'Under present circumstances I shall not be able to keep you on as manager.'Just what his father had prophesied. In a dumb frenzy the young man stood waiting Mr. Pousnett's further utterance.'Had I supposed for a moment your father would refuse to

help you, I never would have suggested such a thing as a partnership to you, but I cannot now repair that error. I raised your hopes in ignorance of your true position, and I am very sorry for it. I will do my best, and you must do your best, to get a good berth; plenty of firms will be glad to take a person recommended by me; but I cannot keep you on. It would be an awkward position for us both; your own excellent sense will tell you a man who once expected to be partner in a house would never again be quite satisfied with a subordinate position in it. Just now, perhaps, you may imagine you would be, but I know to the contrary. It is best we should part, and you may rely on my exerting myself to the utmost to get you a situation as good as that you hold now, if not better.''Do you wish me to go at once, sir?' asked Robert, in a choking voice.'At once? Of course not. I have no intention of casting you adrift in that fashion. Only we must part, remember. I have thought it better to say this to you to-night here, rather than to-morrow at the office; and now we won't talk any more about the matter. You look pale; of course this has been a blow to you. Better come down-stairs and have a glass of wine.'But the discarded clerk would not go down-stairs; in a blind sort of way he determined to remain in paradise till the very last minute.He felt he might never have another chance of reentering it, never mix even on the semblance of equal terms again with his employer's family.'Just as you like,' said Mr. Pousnett, kindly tolerant. 'I cannot tell you how sorry I feel for your disappointment, and how vexed I am with myself for an interference which has ended so disastrously.''You are very kind, sir,' murmured Robert; and they returned to the front drawing-room just as Miss Pousnett was ending a second Scottish ballad for the delectation of Mr. McCullagh.How much longer the concert might have lasted is uncertain but for Mr. Stoddard saying he had no idea it was so late.Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Pousnett said it was not late or begged him to remain longer; they took it quite as a matter course he should leave; and seeing this, Mr. McCullagh followed his lead, and remarking to his son it was time they

were thinking about making their way home too; thanked Miss Pousnett for her 'music,' and advanced to bid Mrs. Pousnett good-night.That lady, with her knitting trailing behind her, met him half-way.'Must you go, Mr. McCullagh?' she said sweetly, quite pressing his hand as she held it in hers. 'I am so sorry; it has been such a pleasure to see you. I am delighted to have made your acquaintance.''I am going too; I will walk with you a little way,' volunteered Captain Crawford, as Mr. McCullagh was about to say good-bye.Mr. Pousnett went down into the hall with his guests, and, urbane to the last, thanked Mr. McCullagh for coming so far, and hoped he would not take any cold. 'Good-night, Crawford; we shall expect to see you next Monday, of course;' and then the butler held the front door wide, and they passed out into the square, and paradise was left behind, and Robert and his fortunes were pacing the cold wet pavement. It had come on to rain slightly, and the external air, after the genial warmth of Mr. Pousnett's room, felt chill and damp.But the dull night and the slight drifting rain did not seem to affect Mr. McCullagh's spirits in the least.He talked to Captain Crawford volubly as they went along.'Ye'll no forget,' he said at length, 'that ye promised to give me a call. I'd be proud if ye would; and ye shall give me your opeenion of what I call the best whisky that ever came south.''I will come, thank you,' said the Captain politely.Robert did not shudder now; what did it matter to him who came or who went, who stayed away or stopped? It could not alter his position or make his prospects any brighter.'My road lies in this direction,' remarked Captain Crawford when they reached Oxford-street, pointing towards the Marble Arch. 'I shall have to bid you good-night now.''Good-night, sir,' said Mr. McCullagh, who had taken for the officer one of those singular predilections which at once set reason at defiance, and seem to have no origin in instinct. 'Good-night, and I wish ye weel.''I am sure I am very much obliged to you,' replied Captain Crawford; and having so spoken, he took his departure, and the father and son were at last alone.'We may as well walk on,' observed the elder; 'it's a trifle cold standing at this corner.''It is enough to perish one to death,' said Robert.By the aid of a street-lamp they were passing Mr. McCullagh stole one swift look at his son's face; what he saw in it probably suggested his next remark.'What a lot of timber they have in those rooms, to be sure!''I don't think I quite understand you, sir,' answered his son.'Furniture--furniture, I mean,' said Mr. McCullagh quickly; 'mahogany's timber and rosewood's timber and ebony's timber, aren't they?''Of course,' agreed Robert. 'Yes; I never was in so handsome a house.'What a trial it must be to a man to have such a mountain of a wife always before his eyes!' was the next genial observation.'Mrs. Pousnett is considered a very fine woman,' objected Robert irritably.'She is a very weighty one, at any rate,' said his father.The younger man deemed it best to make no comment on this undeniably true statement, and they accordingly walked a few yards further in silence.'They are a surprisingly pleasant family,' Mr. McCullagh again broke ground. 'I can't recall to mind ever meeting with so many agreeable people living under one roof. I wonder,' he added, 'if they are as pleasant when they are alone.''I do not know why they should not be pleasant,' answered Robert, with some asperity, 'when they are all of one mind.''I believe ye're right there,' said his father, with a short laugh. 'I do think they are all of one mind.' Which observation suggested so many disagreeable deductions that the young man felt thankful to find the omnibus they hailed so full there was only room for one inside, which fact necessitated his climbing to the knife-board.Nevertheless he insisted on walking with his father home to the very door, though Mr. McCullagh said, 'Hoots! There is no need; no need at all.'The little attention must have pleased him, however, for he observed at parting, 'I won't ask ye to come in to-night, Robert, for it's late, and ye ought to be in your bed: but if ye can call round in the morning after breakfast, any time before ten, I'd like ye to do so; there is a matter I want to speak a word to ye about.'CHAPTER VII.
MR. M'CULLAGH IS GENEROUS.IT was with the gloomiest forebodings that Robert McCullagh proceeded, on the morning after Mr. Pousnett's dinner-party, to obey his father's behest. He felt sure the interview would prove of no pleasant description, for it never occurred to him--knowing he had got as good as his marching orders--that any one could be ignorant of the fact. Whereas, in truth, the idea that his son was politely dismissed had not crossed Mr. McCullagh's mind. He could not have done such a thing himself: ask a man, for instance, to partake of toddy, and seize an opportunity over the last half tumbler to announce his intention of making him bankrupt.He was a hard man, a stern creditor, a trader who wanted his honest pound of flesh; but he had fine instincts nevertheless. His best friend could not have called him a gentleman; but his worst enemy must have admitted he had in many respects gentlemanlike feelings and ideas. He often expressed the opinion that it was 'aye best to keep business and pleasure apart,' and carried his theory into practice even to the extent of disliking to 'trade regularly with his familiars.' Who that has ever been seduced into friendly relations with the heads of a wholesale house from whom he purchased his stockings, or the customer to whom he subsequently retailed those stockings over the counter, but must confirm the truth of Mr. McCullagh's dictum?The younger Robert need not, as he wended his way to Basinghall-street, have vexed his soul with speculations concerning what his father would say on the subject of his notice to quit. It never entered into Mr. McCullagh's mind to imagine he had received it: that interview in the conservatory he concluded related solely to his own refusal of the seven thousand pounds.'Seven thousand pounds, indeed!' mused the canny Scot. 'My faith, even if he had seven thousand pounds, the lad is better out of that hotbed of extravagance.'The morning was blustering; after the previous night's rain the wind had risen and was hurrying up and down streets, and swooping around corners, and playing at hide-and-seek both with its own currents and passers-by, at the angles of unexpected City churches, and in all places where open spaces or railings enabled it to ,have games in the least frequented thoroughfares.Greeting his son, Mr. McCullagh pronounced the day 'fresh,' and said there was a pleasant change in the weather; which fact his face certainly seemed to indorse, for it looked bright and sunshiny, and as if its owner had been taking a country walk before breakfast. He was standing on the door-step, evidently watching for his son, as Robert turned into the paved courtyard; and though he did not express any joy at sight of his first-born, the look of satisfaction upon his countenance when the young man loomed in view was unmistakable.'Come in, come in,' he said hospitably, flinging wide the door of that apartment where Robert had, eight days before, experienced peine forte et dure. 'Take a seat. Are ye cold?' and Mr. McCullagh actually stirred up a fire large enough to bear stirring. 'Ye don't look well, Robert. What ails ye, man?''There's nothing ailing me, thank you,' answered Robert; 'but I don't feel very well. I took too much of Mr. Pousnett's wine, perhaps, last night.''It's no that,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'As ye are aware, I don't hold with wine, thinking it a poor liquor, only fit for weemen and foreigners; but good wine can hurt no man, and that wine we had last night was just what a fault could not be found with. Ye're too anxious, Robert. When all's said and done, that's about the truth of it;' and Mr. McCullagh paused and regarded his son attentively.'Well, I need not be anxious now, at all events,' answered the young man, with a bitterness of feeling he was at no pains to conceal. 'It is over and done with.''As regards the pairtnership, we may conseeder the matter settled,' agreed Mr. McCullagh. 'It was nonsensical, and I may say an unfit thing to make such a proposition to a person in your position; but big people like Mr. Pousnett take no thought for anybody except themselves.'After his experience of the previous evening, Robert felt in no mood to do battle for the Mr. Pousnetts of this world, and contented himself with a muttered remark to the effect that 'no good could be done by talking about the matter now.''I do not want to trouble ye with any talk concerning the pairtnership,' said Mr. McCullagh, looking at his son with an expression in which pity, contempt, and a lurking feeling of pride were curiously mingled. 'I did not bring ye here to go over the old ground again; but I do want to have a few words regarding your future, because I am much out in my estimate of Mr. Pousnett if, after a bit, he does not take some opportunity of sending you about your business.'Robert looked up swiftly. After all, then, his father did not suspect that already the fiat had gone forth. There was comfort in the thought, Robert felt, though any one might have wondered where he found it; and his manner at once lost the certain hard defiance which had characterised it since his entrance.Astute as he was, Mr. McCullagh failed to guess the cause of the sudden brightness in his son's face, ascribing the altered tone in which Robert said,'I think it is very likely he will,' to relief at the idea that some 'feasible plan of making a living was about to be proposed to him.''I am truly glad to see ye are beginning to look at the affair sensibly,' observed Mr. McCullagh. 'What I have got to say fo ye will seem, no doubt, a very poor sort of proposal after the big prize that was dangled before your eyes; but remember this, my offer is an honest one, and I make it free of all condition and stipulation whatsoever.''You are very kind, sir, I am sure,' said Robert, puzzled beyond measure. After all, was his father going to suggest taking him into partnership in his own sweet-stuff line of trade? On the whole, the young man did not think he would care for such a distinction.'I need not go back over what I have told you, before about my own humble beginnings,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh; 'because you are not me, and your time is now, and mine was then; and, all things considered, it would not be fair to expect you to do at your age what I felt small hardship when I wa nearly ten years your junior; so we'll put my doings on one side,' added Mr. McCullagh magnanimously, 'and just see what we can devise to start you afresh, if Mr. Pousnett should tell you he wants your room instead of your company.'Robert winced; there was, alas, no 'if' in the case. He had been given to understand too clearly Mr. Pousnett could exist without him.'It seems to me,' went on Mr. McCullagh, 'that, supposing

the worst comes to the worst, it would be well for ye to try and do something for yourself. A situation is all very well early in life; but as a man gets on, I think he has more heart in working for himself than in toiling for a master. Now just at the present time there are openings for making money that may not soon occur again, and what I am willing to do for ye is this: cast about and see the thing ye feel most fit for. Conseeder at your leisure the line ye think you're most likely to succeed in, decide as to the locality where ye had best take an office, and when ye are ready, come to me, and I'll do this: guarantee your rent for one year, furnish your office, so as to enable ye to begin in a creditable manner, and lodge five hundred pounds for ye in the bank, which, with good management, ye may increase twentyfold before you're forty years of age.'Here was a noble brought to ninepence! Here was an air castle resolved into a mud cabin! A possible seven thousand pounds and many impossible seven thousand pounds at the back of it, reduced to five hundred, with no certainty or expectation beyond, save that of hard work! When a man asks his fellow for ten pounds, and is offered half-a-crown instead, with an air as if that sum would purchase the Koh-i-noor, he rarely feels ecstatically grateful. From the donor's point of view he should do so, perhaps; from Mr. McCullagh's, Robert ought to have blessed him for his generosity. Disappointed though he was, the young man made an effort to express his gratitude. He recognised all such an offer meant to a hard prudent man of business. Six hundred or six hundred and fifty pounds in hard cash he knew was a handsome present for his father to suggest; he had done nothing like this for his other sons. Of course it was possible he might do more for them eventually; but, then, he also might do the same by Robert. Deep in his soul he felt his father was entitled to his heartiest thanks, and yet he found it impossible to do more than utter a few commonplace words of gratitude.'I'm no looking for gratitude,' said Mr. McCullagh, a little vexed at his son's lack of enthusiasm; 'and if ye can put the money to good account, it'll be more to me than a bushel-measure full of thanks. Ye're my first-born, Robert, and though ye're not much like your father in ways or thoughts, any more than looks, I'm very sure you're not answerable for that. The Almighty never meant us all to be just similar; and I--I want to do what is right by ye, if I can.''That I'm sure you do,' said Robert, touched by something in his father's tone he had never heard ringing through it before; 'and I am very, very grateful to you.''And ye're very welcome,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'It's a come-down I can weel understand; but still, as time goes on, I hope you will be able to make a fine business. I began in a cellar at ten pounds a year, and look at me now. Though I say it as maybe shouldn't say it, there's not a man in the City better trusted than "plain auld Rab."''I know that, father, well,' agreed Robert, remembering many things Mr. Pousnett had said about his parent.'After ye spoke to me first,' went on Mr. McCullagh, 'I kept turning your matter over and over in my mind, and I just determined, if Pousnetts were playing at fast and loose with ye, I would see ye did not fall too heavy; so if the worst should happen, don't trouble yourself about looking after another situation. While ye're fresh out of such a big firm set up for yerself, and see if ye can't make a spoon. There's no call for ye to spoil a horn.''And what line of business should you suggest, sir, as the best for me to take to?' asked his son, who had sense enough to understand that the words just uttered contained both rhyme and reason.'Time enough for all that,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'We won't rush at any scheme. Conseeder the matter quietly, and then, if Pousnett should say he is going to make different arrangements, come to me, and we'll put our two heads together, and see what we can make out of them.'There are many people in the world who consider frankness a mistake, and draw a wide distinction between keeping silence and telling a lie; yet the fact is that, in many cases, reticence and falsehood prove synonymous terms, and produce the same results.By holding his tongue at that critical moment, and failing to say, 'Virtually Mr. Pousnett has already dismissed me,' Robert McCullagh commenced that course of deceit which eventually caused him much misery.He had never been candid with his father, and at this critical juncture he felt it more than he could do to confess: 'I sha'n't be in Pousnetts' long; the sooner I clear out of the place, the better Mr. Pousnett will be pleased.''And while we are talking about your future, Robert,' continued Mr. McCullagh, totally unconscious of the trouble

agitating his son's mind, 'there is another matter I want to say a word about. Don't ye think it would keep ye together a bit if ye took to yourself a companion?''What sort of a companion?' asked the young man, in amazement.'Why, a wife, to be sure,' answered his father somewhat testily.'A wife!' repeated Robert. 'Where would I get one? What would I do with her?''I know where ye could get one,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'What ye would do with her is quite another question--not treat her ill, I hope.''You may be very sure I would not ill-treat any woman,' answered his son; 'but I have never yet seen the person I should like to marry.''That's strange,' mused Mr. McCullagh; 'and you getting for thirty year of age.''It may be strange, but it's true,' Robert replied.'And yet there's a young woman who is very fond of you, if I am not greatly mistaken.''Of me! Who on earth is she?''Jest Effie, the creature.''Effie !' echoed Robert. D'ye mean Effie Nicol?''I do not know any other Effie,' was the answer, dryly spoken.'But what makes you think she cares for me?''Man, man, if ye hadn't been so taken up with yourself and your concerns, you'd have found that out long and long ago. She's young, and she's not bold, and she has not the gift of the gab, and she'd be ashamed to put herself forward; but any one with half all eye could tell she likes the very ground ye step on.''What an awful idea!' ejaculated Robert involuntarily.'What's an awful idea?' asked Mr. McCullagh. 'Isn't it a good thing for a wife to like her husband? D'ye think it is a happiness for a man to feel she is aye scorning and looking upon him?''No, sir, I do not; but I think a man should love his wife, most certainly I do not love Effie.''Just give your mind to the matter, and ye'll soon care enough for her.''That I am sure I never should,' was the quick retort. 'I have not the smallest fancy for spending my life with a mute.'Mr. McCullagh laughed sardonically.'When ye've been married to her a year ye'll find out the difference; maybe ye'll be wishing then she had never found the use of her tongue.''I have not a word to say against Effie,' began Mr. Robert McCullagh.'If ye had, ye'd best not say it before me,' interpolated his father.'I said I had not. She is a good girl, I make no doubt, and I hope she may take the fancy of some worthy man; but so far as I am concerned, if there was not another girl on the face of the earth, I would not marry Effie Nicol.''Weel, weel,' said Mr. McCullagh, 'ye need not make such a racket about the matter; nobody's going to force ye to marry her. If ye don't like the lass, and can't like her, why, somebody else will, that's all there's to be said. She's fond of ye, as I said; but I'll be bound she won't break her heart about ye; and as ye say it's just impossible ye could ever fancy her, I'll soon put the notion out of her head. I am sure I don't know how it ever got there.''Nor I,' said Robert emphatically; c not through any fault of mine, that is quite certain.''I wish ye could have made a match of it,' observed Mr. McCullagh, in a matter-of-fact sort of way, as if he were talking about a deal in Scotch provisions. 'She'd have made ye a good managing sort of wife, and helped ye to put by something against a rainy day; still, as it's not to be, why, it won't.''It can't be, sir,' amended his son.'That's just what I'm saying, and so we needn't waste any more breath talking over impossibilities. Ye'll bear in mind, though, what I mentioned about that five hundred pounds. I'll put it on one side, so if ye do get the route at Pousnetts', or if ye should think ye'd like to try for yourself, it'll be ready.''I really do not know how to thank you sufficiently, father,' said Robert, with as much show of gratitude as he could call up.'I can tell ye,' answered Mr. McCullagh: 'put the money to a good use--mind the parable of the talents--and neither fling the cash away, nor fail to make more of it. There's a deal to be done with five hundred pounds in ready cash if a man knows how to lay that amount out judiciously. Situated as ye are, Robert, ye ought to know how to lay your hand on many and many a bargain.''Yes, sir, I often know where bargains might be picked up.''Then, for the Lord's sake, don't let them slip!' entreated Mr. McCullagh, with an earnestness of look and diction which was quite pathetic. 'If ye are so situated ye can't turn them to account yourself, let me have a chance to make an honest penny. I am afraid ye haven't been half wide enough awake. Why, the flotsam and jetsam floating by a big house like Pousnetts' ought o be enough to make a dozen moderate fortunes. Keep your eyes open, Robert, and God be with ye! Mind about the five hundred, and if ye see or hear of a chance, don't let it escape ye.''It shall not,' answered Robert, inwardly lamenting he had permitted so many likely things to elude his grasp.'That's right,' returned his father; 'and now I'll bid ye good-morning, for ye must be wanting to make your way to Pousnetts', and I've an engagement in Little Britain before eleven. I hope ye feel a bit more content.''It would be strange if I did not, sir,' replied his son; but Mr. McCullagh understood his words lacked the ring of true sincerity, and when Robert left the room, said audibly,'He's hankering after the flesh-pots of that vile land of Egypt. It's a pity, but I won't be hard upon him; no, the Almighty knows I want to do right by the lad, though I am not going to give my hard-earned money to make him a cipher among those grand folks, who don't care a twopenny-piece what becomes of him so long as he serves their turn.'CHAPTER VIII.
ALF MOSTIN.AFTER leaving Basinghall-street, the object of Mr. McCullagh's anxious cogitations did not immediately proceed to Pousnetts' offices.Almost without definite intention he involuntarily bent his steps towards North-street, in the neighbourhood of Barbican. As a child when in trouble turns naturally to its mother for consolation, so in the extremity of his depression Robert McCullagh thought with comfort of the only person of whom he had ever made a confidant--his second cousin, Alf Mostin.There was nothing in his life that agreeable relative, stanch friend, old schoolfellow, did not know; and the young man felt it would take the keen edge off his disappointment to hear his cousin's view of the matter, and to receive the ready sympathy he had never yet found denied him.As he reached the house where Mr. Alf Mostin resided, and carried on an unprosperous business, all upon the second floor, there came out upon the step the very prettiest girl Mr. Robert McCullagh had ever seen in the whole course of his life. She was leaving the house, and turned at the instant of his arrival down North-street, so that she met the young man point-blank. She was like a gleam of sunshine in a dark place; and Robert, forgetting for a moment all his annoyances, stood upon the doorstep looking after her retreating figure. While he watched, the wind served him a good turn, and the girl a scurvy trick. It blew her dress over a rude scraper which projected awkwardly upon the pavement; and as she walked on, unconscious of the catastrophe impending, gave the silk another twirl round the piece of iron.Next moment there was the sound of something being suddenly and violently rent; the lady was striving to extricate her skirt, and Robert was beside her, proffering his assistance. How pretty she was! How pleasantly she laughed! How modestly she blushed! How sweetly she thanked him for his

help! How deftly she gathered her dress round her, so as to conceal the grievous slit in the poor cheap silk! How fair she was to look upon! What an exquisite rose-pink tinted her cheeks! What threads of gold flecked her brown sunny hair! Robert had scarcely self-possession enough left to raise his hat as she bowed and said, 'Good-morning.' If he never was in love before, he was in love now. Cupid had not been blind this time; he took straight aim, and shot the young man through the heart. 'Love at first sight,' some one laughs, perhaps. It sounds ridiculous; and yet there are those who believe that this love at first sight is the only love a man remembers when he is taking his last look back over life for ever.Like a man in a dream, young McCullagh waited till she turned the corner of the street and disappeared from outward view; then slowly he retraced his steps to the door from which she had emerged.The ground and first floors were occupied by a solicitor, who used the rooms as offices; the basement and attics were retained by the old lady who lived on the amount her house produced by letting in this manner; on the second floor Alf Mostin resided, had resided for years. Could it be possible he knew the girl? Could she have been coming from his office? As the idea flashed through Robert's mind, for the first time in his life he felt a pang of jealousy.Ah, if Effie Nicol had a poor chance before, she had none at all now! Then and for the future Robert McCullagh's hitherto vague ideas on the subject of female loveliness found embodiment in a pair of dark-gray eyes, shaded by darker lashes, a straight delicate nose, a frank mouth, a complexion as is rarely seen save in young children, soft hair, amongst which the sunbeams seemed to have made their home, a slight willowy figure, and a manner which, though modest as a woman's could be, had yet about it a simple winning grace.Passing into the hall from which this vision of loveliness appeared, Robert McCullagh made his way up to the floor occupied by his cousin. There were two doors on the landing, one of which, marked 'Office,' was used by Mr. Mostin for business purposes; whilst the other, bearing the legend 'Private,' kept sacred to the delights of domestic life. Out of the office, which. overlooked the street, there opened a small inner chamber, where Mr. Mostin slept.Without waiting an answer to his knock, Robert opened the door marked private, and entered a room pervaded by a smell

of fried bacon. Beside the fireplace, indeed, stood a gentleman in his shirtsleeves, who had evidently been engaged in turning some rashers in the pan, when distracted from his employment by the advent of a visitor.'It's you, is it. Bob?' he said cheerily, shifting a fork from his right hand to his left, and extending the former to Robert. 'You are just in time. The coffee is made, and the bacon will be done in a minute. Get yourself a cup, like a good fellow, and put off your topcoat.''I can't stop, thank you,' said the new-comer, taking a position at the opposite side of the hearth, and standing propped up against the mantelpiece. 'I have breakfasted, and I must be getting on to the office.''Sit down, at any rate, man,' urged the other; 'there is an easy-chair beside you, and tell me the news. Why, it is an age since I saw you! What have you been doing?''Nothing that's any good,' answered Robert gloomily, the while his eyes wandered slowly round the room. No; she could not have been there. The man without his coat, engaged in frying rashers of bacon, in an atmosphere redolent of pig in its artificial state, could not have been visited by youth and beauty, by dark-gray eyes and sunny hair and peach-like cheeks, and a forehead as white as snow. It was simply impossible.'Anything that's very bad?' asked Mr. Mostin, putting the rashers on a plate, and lifting the coffee-pot from the hob.'Yes, a great deal that's bad,' replied his cousin; 'or, at least, other people have been doing it for me.''What's the matter now?' inquired Mr. Mostin, regarding his relation with a look of fixed attention.'Go on with your breakfast, I will tell you,' said Robert; and he drew his chair closer, though the room was so small he could well have made himself heard in any part of it.'All right,' agreed his cousin, setting to work with a will upon the viands himself had prepared and spread on the hospitable board.A good-looking man; a better-looking man than Robert McCullagh, though the latter was by far the handsomer of the two; a man with twice the brains and thrice the heart, yet one who could never do much good for himself by reason of a curse which had been laid on him at birth--inveterate laziness. All the talent of the Mostin family, and all their fail-

ings, seemed to have descended to him: all their kindliness, all their versatility, all their want of thrift, all their power of making friends, all their facility for letting opportunities slip through their fingers. The man did not exist who could have made a good thing of life for this Alf Mostin, since, had any one handed over to him a fine estate, he would, without indulgence in a single vice so called, soon have muddled it away.Whether the lack of any kind of management be not as much a vice as gambling, drinking, or stealing, is a question the world has yet decided in the negative. The day must come, however, I fancy, when the man who cannot make his incomings and his outgoings balance will be looked upon as little better than a thief.In those days, in that state of life in which he had been born, Mostin managed to rub along somehow. He sustained existence after an economical fashion, cooking his own meals when he had any, employing no errand-boy, and when he was absent from his office tacking pieces of paper on his door, which perhaps served his purpose better than any clerk. He had a pile of these papers laid aside in a corner ready for use; they varied from minutes to hours, from to-day till to-morrow, or even longer, which he used as expediency or fact warranted. For example: 'I P.M.--return in half an hour;' or 'Return in five minutes--please wait,' were usually genuine, and meant business; while 'Gone out of town--return on Thursday,' signified, as a rule, to the initiated that Mr. Alf Mostin had a pressing creditor he did not want to face, and that, instead of being in the country, he was really behind bolted doors sitting over the fire, striving with some novel to cheer his loneliness.A useful man to have for a friend, since there was nothing in the whole gamut of sin and folly his fellow need have feared or been ashamed to tell him. He did not love wickedness per se; but experience had taught him it was more natural than virtue; whilst for the evils arising out of bad management and weakness, he held that thorough sympathy no man can ever feel whose own life is not a series of shifts and excuses.How he had drifted into the sea of turbid troubled waters he was ingulfed it would be difficult to say. He did not go straight from school into the purgatory of debt and duns, from which it now seemed as though nothing short of a miracle could release him. At some time, in some way, he

took a wrong turn, and from that period he had proceeded slowly, but surely, downhill. Already honest traders shook their heads dubiously when Alf Mostin was spoken of; his paper was considered something more than 'shady;' his promises were simply regarded as in the nature of piecrust. There were those who did not care even to be seen talking to him where 'men do congregate;' and yet he had that power of making fresh and eligible acquaintances, and that accursed facility for raising money, perfectly inexplicable to toilers along the world's highways, who have not found it easy to make useful friends, and who are very sure silver and gold are not to be picked up without extremest labour on any road they have ever passed along.Such, however, as he was, there he sat in his shirtsleeves at breakfast on the morning after Mr. Pousnett's party, eating bacon, drinking coffee, cutting himself hunches of bread, and all the while listening attentively to his cousin's tale of woe. He did not interrupt it by a word; he heard in silence, as though the offer of a partnership in such a firm as Pousnetts' and an invitation to dinner from Portman-square to Basinghall-street were amongst the commonest incidents of ordinary existence.Down almost to date Robert brought his narrative; he told about his father's offer, even repeated what he had said concerning Effie, ere Alf Mostin spoke. Then the only remark he made was,'I wonder you ever mentioned the matter in Basinghall-street at all.''I should not have mentioned it, you may be very sure, if I had known what the result would prove.''Yes, but that is just what you ought to have known.''I didn't think there was a man in London who would have refused his son help to get him a partnership in Pousnetts''Didn't you? Well, I could have told you that your father would be the man.''And such a chance!' said Robert gloomily. 'Such a chance as can never come again--never.''It was a grand chance,' agreed Mr. Mostin.'And what on earth I am to do now I am sure I have not a notion.'You can't take to Effie and the five hundred pounds.''No, I would not marry Effie for fifty thousand pounds.''I don't think I- would myself,' said Mr. Mostin musingly. 'She's uncommon still water; but I'd take my oath there's a devil at the bottom.'Robert, who had been tracing a pattern with crumbs on the tablecloth, looked up quickly.'You're wrong there, Alf; the girl is colourless altogether.''Is she?' laughed Alf.'Have you ever seen her cross?' asked Robert, in hot vindication of the girl he had pitied the preceding night.'No, and I don't want to see her.''I had no notion you had ever noticed Effie at all,' said Robert curiously.'I've noticed her,' was the reply. 'I've cast up the young lady, stock, lock, and barrel, and believe she is dangerous. However, we needn't talk about her now. Can't you take to the five hundred? Small beginnings, you know.''I'm afraid I could not make much out of five hundred. I have been
trained in too big a house for that.''It seems to me a man had better have nothing than such a sum,' said Mr. Mostin from the hearthrug, where, having finished his breakfast, he had now taken up his position. 'He can't lose nothing; and he can lose five hundred, and hear a deuce of a row about it too.''Which I should, if I lost it,' answered Robert, to whom this view of the question had not previously occurred.'What bothers me, is why you went to your father at all,' said Mr. Mostin, reverting to his first inquiry. 'You must have known he would refuse to help you.''How was I to know anything of the sort?''How? Just the way everybody else does. Men who like to keep what he calls "a grip of the siller" are not in the habit of presenting even a beloved first-born with seven thousand pounds in hard cash.''But it would not have been giving it to me. If he had put his name on a bill at twelve, eighteen months, two years, Mr. Pousnett would have made no difficulty.''Yes; but, you know, he won't accept a bill,' said Alf Mostin determinedly; 'and, what's worse,' he went on, with a comical expression, 'he won't take one: he actually refused mine.''You don't mean to say you offered it?'Why lot, my son? And had he taken that bill, it would have been paid. The chance came in my way of sending out

goods to that place which, in the charming alliteration of the City, is called the Cursed Crimea. Your parent could have supplied many, and got all of them. I pointed out to him it was an opportunity which might never occur again. I offered him my bill, and promised he should have that of a good firm to replace it the moment the goods were shipped. I employed all my eloquence. I said things which, I think, ought to have drawn blood from a stone; but your papa did not see it. He thought it "wouldna jest suit him; that he didna care to extend his trade in the direction I pointed out; that he had as much to do as he could weel get through, but he felt no doubt there were bigger houses would be glad to execute my order." Having uttered which sardonic remark, he added he was busy, and must wish me good-day.''And then--''Then I went and blasphemed like the parrot under my breath all the way up the court, and all the way back to these diggings.''But, Alf--''Yes, Robert.''There is this difference between the cases--that you very often do not pay.''There is no difference at all; you might not pay.''I should have been sure to do so.''That is what everybody believes when he borrows money, backs a bill, takes a house, buys on credit, makes himself liable in any way. Do you know, Robert, if a man can act up to his profession, I think your father is right. The devil of it is, there is not one in a thousand, there is not one in ten, in a hundred thousand, who could lay down a rule and stick to it as he has done. In the first place, carrying such a rule out means an inflexibility of purpose happily rare; in the next, it means giving up everything a human being finds pleasant to the eye and grateful to the sense. It all resolves itself into a question of temperament. His is cold and hard, like his native climate. Here in London we can't live on sheep's head and oatmeal porridge; we like our beer and our steak if we can get them, and the consequence is often bankruptcy, no doubt; yet we have enjoyed the ale and the steak more, I fancy, than we should the sheep's head with prosperity, and the oatmeal with a balance at the bank.''I thought the sight of that magnificent house last night might have turned his purpose,' said Robert, disregarding his

cousin's abstract reflections, and reverting, as people always do revert, to his own aims and disappointments.'Did you? To such a man the sight of a fine house merely serves the same purpose as a lighthouse does to vessels--warns him to keep his distance.''You are in a most cynical mood this morning, Alf,' said his cousin irritably.'Possibly I want five pounds badly,' answered the other.'Take it, then, for Heaven's sake!' exclaimed Robert, throwing a note on the table.'And Barak said to Balaam--' muttered Mr. Mostin to himself, turning his face towards the fire, and kicking down the coals, which were burning hollow, with the heel of his slipper. I wonder,' he resumed, after that momentary diversion, 'whether Doyle could not manage this business for you?''Who is Doyle?''Don't you know Doyle? Bless your innocent heart, I thought every one in. the City knew that friend of youth and inexperience. Doyle is a gentleman who was born in Dublin. His papa's name being Schnee, and his mamma's Burt, he decided that Doyle would commit neither side of the house. Mr. Schnee was a German, Mrs. Burt an American. Doyle is an Irishman; and when I say that in his own person he unites the vices of the three nations mentioned, you will perhaps think I have stated enough.'Having concluded which eulogium upon his friend, Mr. Mostin turned the little clock that adorned his mantel shelf right round, took off its back, and commenced winding it up with the claw of a hammer.With a horrible fascination Robert watched this performance; the man to whom it could have occurred to wind up a clock with the claw of a hammer might really perhaps get him seven thousand pounds. To be sure he stood in want of five pounds himself, but that was nothing. If he lacked that amount to-day, he might have five hundred to-morrow.'I think Doyle would do it for you somehow,' said Alf Mostin, as he replaced the clock in its former position, and listened with an approving expression to its brisker click, click, click. 'Shall we go and ask him? It could not do any to ask him, could it?''No, that it could not!' exclaimed Robert McCullagh, springing to his feet. 'Where is his place?''In Bush-lane,' answered Mr. Mostin, 'the very dirtiest

dingiest hole in the City. However, if the money can be got, it does not matter what mine it is dug out of. Gold is always gold, Bob, even when it comes from a certain locality which shall be nameless.''If I could but get it, if I only could!' sighed his cousin mournfully.'Well, let us try, at any rate,' said Mr. Mostin, donning coat, top-coat, and hat with the speed of a magician. 'One minute; I must just stick up a notice--"Return at one"-that will give law enough. Now come along; there's no one to fling an old shoe after us for luck, unless I ask Mother Clements to perform that ceremony.'As he spoke, a very different vision from Mother Clements recurred to Robert's memory, and instantly he spoke.'By the bye, Alf,' he said, 'as I was coming in here this morning I met a lady.''Did you really? Well, that is nothing to make a song about.''But she was young and very pretty.''Likely enough. Some mornings all the pretty girls turn out; some mornings all the old hags.''She came out of this house.''You don't mean it?''Yes, I do. Is she a friend--of yours?''Of mine! Lord love you, I do not know a pretty girl; if I did, she would not come visiting a chap so out at elbows with Fortune as I am.''I wonder who she is?''What does it matter? We have other fish to fry besides pretty girls. Let us go and see Doyle.'CHAPTER IX.
'COME INTO MY PARLOUR,' ETC.AS thy strode hurriedly towards Bush-lane, Mr. Robert McCullagh junior felt grateful to his cousin for selecting the least frequented of the City thoroughfares. So far as it was in the young man's nature, he loved Alf Mostin, yet for very different reasons from those which occasioned the avoidance of 'good men and true,' Robert would rather not have been seen walking at high noon with his relative. Mr. Mostin was, in truth, as regardless of his appearance as of his character. Muddy boots, unbrushed coat, shabby hat, gloveless hands at a period when gloves obtained, were to him matters of the utmost indifference. Always careless concerning his dress, he had, since the occasion of the World's Fair in Hyde Park, become, as his uncle's wife said, 'perfectly dreadful.' From the day he first set foot in the great glass house he let his beard and moustache grow, and that at a time when such facial adornments seemed not merely strange to the mass of Englishmen, but wicked. Likewise he wore coloured neckties instead of orthodox black, and shirts with pink and lilac and blue stripes upon them, which filled the soul of Robert McCullagh with dismay. Further, he never carried an umbrella, though he was often to be met nursing a great brown-paper parcel. A capital fellow, no doubt, in North-street or in the shades of evening, but scarcely the companion young McCullagh felt proud to be striving to keep step with, when at any minute he might meet one of Pousnetts' clerks or Pousnetts' customers.Though quite unconscious of the feelings at work in his cousin's breast, Mr. Mostin intuitively never, save when it was necessary to cross a great thoroughfare, touched even upon the leading streets. He avoided all busy bustling pavements as if by instinct; he knew short cuts no man save himself could ever have discovered; he went straight up passages which led apparently only to some house, and went through the building out into another street; he was far better acquainted with the

queer courts and alleys of the City than Mr. Pousnett's manager, and merely for the 'sport,' as it seemed, took so-called short cuts and indulged his fancy for devious ways when the direct route would have served as well, if not better.On the present occasion nothing, however, could have pleased Robert more than this game of dodging here and there, of turning into alleys apparently blind, and emerging through queer little passages into narrow lanes beyond. Many of these places are now done away with altogether, and those which are left it would be difficult to indicate to an outsider; but on the morning in question they served their turn. Not a creature that the cousins knew did they meet; not an acquaintance save the wind greeted them the whole length of the way from North-street to Bush-lane.Mr. Doyle was in his office and alone. His clerk chanced to be out, so he answered Alf Mostin's knock himself.'O, how d'ye do, Mr. Mostin?' he said, extending his hand. 'Pray come in. Is this gentleman with you?' he asked, turning to Robert.'It is my cousin. Come in, Bob;' and the three accordingly entered Mr. Doyle's inner office.Dingy most certainly it was, but dirty decidedly not. Next to great financial ability Mr. Doyle's strongest point was order. If he had removed in the morning, evening would have found him with books, boxes, papers all ranged methodically in due place, all ready to his hand. He never wasted his time hunting through piles of untidy papers for a letter. He could produce any document at a moment's notice; his correspondence was pigeon-holed, his bills and receipts filed alphabetically, his accounts kept--save for one peculiarity--so that all who ran might read. A housekeeper was paid for keeping the place clean; and Mr. Doyle had no idea of paying any one when work was left undone.About his office there was nothing suggestive of the mere commonplace money-lender, nothing such as we read of in books and see occasionally in real life. Not a picture of any sort, not a scrap of china, not a sample bottle of sherry: no dentist's operating-room was ever barer of ornament than the apartment where Mr. Doyle received his clients. Over the mantelshelf hung a map of South America; on the wall between two high cabinets, was suspended an almanac; an old Turkey carpet covered the centre of the floor; an escritoire stood in a recess beside the fireplace, flanked by a huge safe. Almost

every available foot of wall-space was occupied by cupboards of one sort or other. These cupboards all locked; when Mr. Doyle left his office at night he did not leave so much as his blotting-pad on the table to add to the housekeeper's labour, or to whet her laudable curiosity.In person Mr. Doyle was as clean and orderly as his office. A man of middle height, and more than middle age, getting, as men in the City are apt to do, a little fat, with a round face so close-shaven as not to leave even the vestige of a hair on cheek, chin, or lip, a head already giving signs of coming baldness, a perfectly expressionless cast of countenance, light-blue eyes, light eyelashes, a white but healthy complexion, plump well-formed hands, ears with that curl in them which is supposed--I think untruly--to indicate a love of music, and a somewhat short neck, necessitating, as he liked to hold himself erect, an upward carriage of the chin, imagined by many to denote conceit.In this idea, however, the many were totally wrong. Probably the man never existed who was so destitute of conceit as Mr. Doyle. Mentally he chanced to be too clever for such a weakness; and as regards physical matters he entertained a contempt, warranted, perhaps, by the circumstances of his experience, for handsome men. He despised good looks in his own sex, just as he contemned the use of scents.'Beauty and eau-de-Cologne are the perquisites of women,' he was wont to remark; 'men ought to have something better to do than think about perfume and padding.'Mr. Doyle had, at any rate, something different: to make money and to keep it, so that one day he might be rich enough to drop money-lending altogether, and start in quite another line of life.Next to his desire to amass wealth was a mania for respectability. It needed but one look at his appearance to guess the name of the god on whose shrine he was willing to sacrifice. The cut and quality of his clothes, his immaculate linen, the stiffness of his stand-up collar, the tie of his cravat, the spotlessness of his cuffs, the plain solidity of his watchchain, the polish of his boots, the measured flow of his words, from which trace of accent had been carefully and painfully eliminated--these things, and such as these, were but the outward and visible signs of the ceaseless war two most opposite characteristics were ever waging in Mr. Doyle's heart. Even the wife of his bosom had no idea of the nature of the business in which her

liege lord was engaged. He lived in the suburbs--indeed, quite in the country, a long way from London, as distances counted in those days. He had a good house at Enfield Highway, with some nine or ten acres of land attached; he was a churchwarden, and much esteemed by the local clergy; his boys and girls went to schools in the neighbourhood, and were in much favour with their masters and mistresses. The family had quite a nice little circle of acquaintances, who knew no more of their friends' position in life than that they were very pleasant people, who gave agreeable parties, and that the husband was 'something in the City.'Many of the men looked his name up in the Directory, but could not find it for the reason indicated by Alf Mostin.The ground, however, Mr. Mostin implied was wrong. Mr. Schnee and Mrs. Burt, widow of Barry Burt of New York, United States, and Cork, Ireland, were as honestly married as man and woman could be; and when in the course of time young Richard was born in Dublin, whither his father had come to produce an opera which never was put on the boards, not a question could be entertained on the subject of-the child's legitimacy. Schnee the elder, being a musician, a dreamer, a poet, and a spendthrift, no one will be surprised to hear he captivated the heart of an eminently hard-headed practical woman, who gave him the love of her life, and, what seemed of perhaps more consequence to the German, all the careful savings left to her by Mr. Burt, provision merchant.Need it be said that before Richard was ten years of age Mr. Burt's money was muddled away, that his father sought an engagement in the Theatre Royal, Dublin, that his mother was obliged to let lodgings, and that all the ills and evils of poverty were patent to the lad ere he entered his teens?He saw the life of that lower Bohemia, which does not differ much from the existence lauded by writers of fiction, save that it drinks ale instead of champagne, and smokes pipes perforce because it cannot afford cigars. He understood the pain of such an experience, if he failed to participate in the pleasure.When he got a situation as errand-lad in Mr. Doyle's offices in Dame-street, the very jacket he had on his back was charitably given him by a pawnbroker, between whom and the elder Schnee the most friendly relations existed.Mr. Doyle did a good deal in a quiet way of the same sort of thing as the pawnbroker did openly. He advanced money.Most young men of family came to him when they were hard up. Many owners, of landed estates also were deep in his books. 'An oily plausible, agreeable scoundrel,' some one said of Mr. Doyle; but that some one being a debtor, perfect reliance cannot be placed upon his statements.Mr. Doyle grew old and prospered; Richard Schnee grew older also, and looked about him to see how he might prosper too. He was a remarkably sharp lad, who developed into a very clever young man; so clever, that Mr. Doyle suggested articling him without a premium, and inducting him free of expense into those mysteries which had driven many a client into foreign parts or the nearest asylum; but his clerk did not quite see it. He believed an excellent business could be done without the assistance of further legal knowledge than he already possessed; he had a notion the 'oracle could be worked' with unprecedented success between himself in London and Mr. Doyle in Dublin.Eventually he brought Mr. Doyle round to his way of thinking, and started in that gentleman's name, and on that gentleman's capital and account, in Bush-lane.He had not been there a year, however, before Mr. Doyle died, and he was obliged to account for and hand over all the moneys entrusted to him. The business also would have been closed had he not decided to carry it on himself. At first it proved uphill work, but eventually he got into smooth waters.He made a connection, and met with a capitalist willing to co-operate with him. In due time he saw a lady he thought he should like to marry, and whom, indeed, he did marry in his rightful name of Schnee. Germans were not, however, at that time as popular in London, or as plentiful, as they have since become; and accordingly it was not long ere he dropped his original cognomen, substituting in its stead the simpler translation Snow. As Mr. Snow he was known at Enfield Highway, attended local meetings, handed in his subscriptions for the repair of the church, the purchase of an organ, and many other such good deeds; but still there was no secrecy about the matter. Every one knew his father had been a German called Schnee, which name was Snow in English. People understood the gentleman to be British in feeling as well as by birth, and approved the sentiment which led him to adapt his nomenclature to that of the land to which he 'owed so much.'What they did not know was that Mr. Snow, trading as

Jeremiah Doyle, lent money at sixty, one hundred, one hundred and twenty per cent. What he made, who but himself could tell? If he had not lost sometimes, he might have been a millionaire.'Well, and what can I do for you this morning?' he asked, settling himself comfortably in his office-chair, and looking amiably across the table at Mr. Mostin.'For a wonder, nothing,' was the answer. 'That is, I daresay you could do many things; but as I am very sure you would not, why waste time in discussing them? I am here entirely on my cousin's behalf. I don't know whether you can serve him or not; but at all events, I thought it could do no harm for him and you to have a chat together.''Very happy, I am sure, Mr.--?' answered Mr. Snow interrogatively.'McCullagh,' supplied Alf Mostin: 'Robert McCullagh.''Not Mr. Robert McCullagh of Bread-street-hill?' suggested Mr. Snow, acknowledging the introduction with a courteous inclination of his head.'O dear no!' explained Mr. Mostin, in a tone which implied the McCullagh of Bread-street-hill was a different and most inferior creation. 'Son of Robert McCullagh of Basinghall-street. You have heard of him?''I am sorry to confess that I have not,' answered Mr. Snow.Alf Mostin laughed.'After all,' he said, 'I do not know why I asked so silly a question. You never met his name travelling about the City on paper, I know.''That is very true; I never have.''No, nor any other man.''My father never draws nor accepts a bill,' explained Robert, speaking for the first time.'He must be either very prosperous or very poor, then,' said Mr. Snow. 'For your sake I hope he is the former.''He is prosperous enough, I believe,' answered Robert dryly. 'He has a good business, and he spends little out of it.' Mr. Snow looked at the young man with attention, looked him over in one comprehensive glance, and decided that for once he found his instincts at fault.He could not form the remotest idea what his visitor wanted. There was that about Robert's whole appearance which negatived the idea of his being hard up, or of his having

done anything to bring him within reach of the arm of the criminal law. One time and another Mr. Doyle had made a nice little sum of money by finding, at critical periods, funds to satisfy a wrathful employer who gave a parent, say, till six o'clock to make up his son's defalcations. Clerks at the verge of despair, merchants on the point of committing suicide, men who had but the start of a few hours to flee from justice--all, all had sat in that room and told their stories, and been helped or sent away desperate, just as Mr. Snow had seen the chance of making much or nothing out of their necessities.But he could perceive plainly that his present visitor did not come within any of these categories. Alf Mostin, he was well aware, would have brought a man red-handed to him, and asked for twenty pounds to take him to Spain or Jericho, as expediency might suggest. That introduction went for nothing. What did go for a good deal was Robert's look of childlike simplicity, the quietude of his hands, the repose of his mouth. He had not stolen or forged, or got himself into any mess; he was not at his wits' ends to pay a gambling debt or replace his employer's cash. What the deuce did he want? What on earth had brought him to Bush-lane?'I gather from your words that you think your father does make you a sufficient allowance?' said Mr. Snow, after that glance which told him the many wants which Robert had not.Alf Mostin laughed outright.'Did your dad ever give you anything except good advice, Bob?' he asked.'I do not think he did anything to speak of,' answered Robert, 'till this morning, you know.''And this morning?' inquired Mr. Snow, still all at sea.'He offered him five hundred pounds,' explained Mr. Mostin, 'and a wife.''And you don't like the proposed wife, Mr. McCullagh?' said Mr. Snow, groping his way.'O, the five hundred pounds did not depend on the wife,' said Mr. Mostin joyously. 'She was thrown in.''I really am at a loss--' began the money-lender.'My cousin is so fond of his joke,' said Robert, who had never before felt Alf Mostin's jests so out of harmony with his own mood.'If you will kindly tell me how I can help or advise you?' suggested Mr. Snow, whose time really was of value.'That's it,' interposed Mr. Mostin. 'Advice--that's what you can give us. Here's how we stand. If you knew my cousin's father, even by repute, you would understand the position better. Here goes, however, to try and explain it. Mr. McCullagh the elder is a Scotchman.  He came to London with about a crown-piece in his pocket, and he is now worth--Heaven knows how much, we do not He did not get on particularly well with his wife--many men, self-made and otherwise, do not get on with their wives--and the first-born, my cousin, whom you see before you, was brought up by his grandfather, Mr. Mostin, my uncle--''O!' said Mr. Snow, who thought he was beginning to see light.'Beore my uncle dropped into the line of business out of which he has of late years made his living,' proceeded Alf Mostin, with an emphasis not thrown away on one of his hearers, 'he got his grandson a berth in Pousnetts'--''THE Pousnett?' inquired Mr. Snow.'THE Pousnett,' Mr. Mostin replied. 'He has been in that house, man and boy--how many years, Bob?''Fourteen,' answered 'Bob,' thus appealed to.'A double apprenticeship,' murmured the money-lender suavely.'Well, yes,' agreed Alf Mostin. 'He has gone from post to post, climbed every step of the way, I can tell you, from young clerk to older clerk, from older clerk to manager.'Mr. Snow regarded Robert McCullagh with attentive interest.'An onerous post,' he observed tentatively.'I don't think he ever found it so,' said Alf Mostin, in his
cheeriest manner. 'Bob never was afraid of work, and never shirked
it. Pousnett thought so too, apparently; for somewhat less than a
fortnight ago, he offered him a partnership on condition he could
bring seven thousand pounds--just a flea-bite--into the business.''Yes?' said Mr. Snow, interested at last.'Bob goes to his father, never doubting the old man would guarantee the amount at once, and is met with a decided negative. His brother has done so good a thing for himself, it dwarfs Bob's chance at once--Kenneth is going to marry the daughter of V. Johnstone of Liverpool, and become a partner without paying down a halfpenny--and therefore the Pousnett offer is regarded with disdain. Pousnett asks the old man to

dinner, is as civil as civil can be, tells him what a chance he is throwing away, and all the rest of it; but without producing the smallest effect. He never backed a bill, and he never will. He thinks Pousnetts' may be a very grand offer; but it is one his son cannot possibly accept. He believes Pousnett only wants to get civilly rid of his manager; and, acting on that supposition says he is willing to find him five hundred pounds to start his own account.''Well, and why don't you start on your own account?' asked Mr. Snow, turning towards Robert. 'Five hundred pounds is a very nice little nest-egg.'The young man shook his head.'I would rather, if need be, take another situation,' he answered. My father means well, but I think it would drive me mad to start with that millstone of five hundred pounds hung round my neck.''He offers to give you the amount in question, though, does he not?' suggested Mr. Snow.'He does not want it back again, if that is what you mean,' said Robert; 'but he would want to know what became of every shilling of it. If you knew my father, you would better understand how I feel. I could not take that money from him.''And yet you could take fourteen times five hundred.''That would be quite a different matter,' returned Robert, flushing. Pousnetts' is a great business, and the result would be dependent on my own personal exertions or judgment.''Besides, it is such a chance,' urged Mr. Mostin.'It is a large sum to pay for it, though,' observed Mr. Snow.'Do you think so?' asked Alf Mostin. 'I can't agree with you there. It is more than doubtful whether there is another man in the City or in England to whom Mr. Pousnett would offer a partnership on the same terms.''You are very likely right,' agreed Mr. Snow. 'May I put a question to you without offence?' he added, turning to Robert.'Certainly,' said Robert, 'anything you like;' but he hoped, spite of this permission, Mr. Snow was not going to ask him whether Mr. Pousnett meant to dispense with his services.'It is only this. Can you give me any idea, have you any

idea yourself, why Mr. Pousnett offers to take you into the firm?'Here it was again! His father's inquiry, his father's wonder, only differently worded. It never seemed to occur to either of them the manager might be wanted for himself.Just for a moment the young man hesitated; then he said,'I only know of one reason, and I scarcely like mentioning it, because--''You need not be afraid of telling me anything,' suggested Mr. Snow, 'everything is in strict confidence here.''O, there is nothing to be ashamed of exactly, but I felt afraid you might think the remark conceited. I can't give you any reason except this--that I do think Mr. Pousnett has a liking for me.'Mr. Snow smiled--in spite of himself he smiled; the idea of love, or liking, or reverence, or faith influencing any business transaction was too much for his sense of the ludicrous.That a man should gravely say he could step from manager to partner merely because he was dear to the heart of his employer seemed an excellent joke; and when in addition the man evidently believed his own statement, the jest became delicious.Mr. Snow could have roared over it; but he merely smiled and remarked that from the little he had seen of his visitor he did not wonder Mr. Pousnett should entertain a regard for him.'There are going to be changes in the firm,' went on Robert, perfectly unconscious of the satire underlying Mr. Snow's compliment, 'and I fancy Mr. Pousnett would rather have me near him than a stranger.''And quite natural too. What are the changes?'The manager told him; went once again over the ground he had travelled in Basinghall-street; enlarged upon the greatness and the glory of the house of Pousnett; spoke of the enormous trade it did, and of the still more enormous trade it expected to do; grew eloquent concerning Mr. Pousnett's business capacity, and only stopped suddenly, seeing the person he addressed in a brown study, and apparently not attending to a syllable he was saying.But Mr. Snow had not missed a word or a point. It is always unconscious utterances that reveal the true character; and in like manner it is invariably casual remarks which throw light on a mystery.'Humph!' was all Mr. Snow said, when Robert came to a conclusion; and rising, he walked to one of the cabinets, from which he drew a long thin book, which he opened and studied at a particular page. He had a reason, no doubt, for this reference; but what that reason might be, and whether it related to their business or his own, Alf Mostin and Robert McCullagh could not make out in the least.Closing the book, and replacing it on the shelf, Mr. Snow returned to his place.'Would you mind telling me, Mr. McCullagh,' he said, 'what salary you receive from Mr. Pousnett?''Four hundred,' was the reply; 'but I have only had that within the last two years. I had three hundred for some time previously. When I first went to the firm my stipend was almost nominal.''Just so,' remarked Mr. Snow, to whom one thing, at all events, was patent, viz. that his visitor had no intention of deceiving him.'You were to have had five hundred next year, were you not, Bob?' interposed his cousin.'Yes; but the partnership was proposed instead.''And speaking roughly, what do you suppose your share would amount to annually, if you were able to take advantage of Mr. Pousnett's offer?' It was Mr. Snow who spoke.'I am not to have much of a share at first, at all events,' answered Robert; 'but Mr. Pousnett did mention fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds as about the lowest calculation.''From your own knowledge, should you consider such a calculation likely to be correct?''Yes, quite correct.''And what percentage did you propose to pay your father for the money he advanced?''We never got so far as that;' and then they all laughed.'But you must have had some idea on the subject,' continued Mr. Snow, when gravity reigned once more. 'What did you think of offering him?''I do not know that I thought of offering him anything,' was the frank reply. 'Of course Mr. Pousnett is too shrewd a man of business to suppose any one engaged in trade would take such a sum out of it at a minute's notice. He knew my father's name would be just as good as money, that he could get his bills done at Bank-rate; therefore the question of interest not occur to either of us.''Cool, at any rate,' commented Mr. Snow.'Of course I should not expect any stranger to advance money for nothing,' explained Robert eagerly.'I do not suppose you would. If you did, you would find yourself miserably mistaken.'Silence ensued for a minute after this home-thrust. Robert McCullagh could not speak, and Alf Mostin did not care to do so. It was Mr. Snow who at length resumed the conversation.'If a person could be found willing to advance such a sum of money,' he said, addressing Robert, 'what proposition do you think you could make to him?''I have not a notion,' answered the young man feebly.'But that's nonsense, Bob,' struck in Mr. Mostin. 'What should you say would be a fair rate of interest, Mr. Snow? A long percentage is out of the question in such a case as this.''Your cousin seems to imagine no percentage would be about the right thing to give.''I did not say that,' objected Robert.'Well, then, Bank-rate,' amended Mr. Snow, with a fine sneer.'I did not mean that either,' answered the young man helplessly.'Perhaps you will kindly tell us what you did mean,' suggested Mr. Snow.'I am sure I can scarcely tell what I meant,' said Robert, in desperation. 'I only know this, that if any man would enable me to get into Pousnetts' house, I would do anything that lay in my power for him in return.''You would really?''Really and truly,' answered the manager, in a tone in which nervousness and despair and hope were all curiously blended.'The worst of it is,' remarked Mr. Snow, 'that there does not seem much you can do. The amount is large, and your prospects at present are but small. Suppose your share does come to fourteen hundred. The interest, even at ten per cent, on seven thousand pounds is seven hundred a year. Seven hundred a year for interest alone. How should you ever pay off the principal?''I would reduce it by five hundred a year,' said Robert.Mr. Snow smiled doubtfully.'You have saved nothing hitherto,' he observed, as if he knew the fact from personal knowledge.'No, but I would save now,' answered the young man.'Are you in debt?''I owe my tailor ten pounds, perhaps.''Are you married? But I remember, you are not. Your father offered you a wife.''No, I am not married,' agreed Robert.'And if as manager at Pousnetts' you contrived to spend four hundred a year, how do you propose to live on two hundred when you become a partner?''I'd manage somehow,' was the reply.'Do you live at home?' asked Mr. Snow--'with your father, I mean?''With my grandfather, Mr. Mostin.''You pay him something, I suppose?''About a hundred a year.''So you have dribbled away something like six pounds a week, and I daresay could not tell where the twentieth part of it went.''I am afraid I could account for a good deal of it,' said Alf Mostin good-naturedly.'That would go for something,' retorted Mr. Snow. 'I know by experience one might as well throw money on a sandbank as give it to you.''There is many a true word spoken in jest,' agreed the 'ne'er-do-weel.''Jest!' echoed Mr. Snow. 'If you think I am speaking in jest, I wonder what you would call earnest? But to revert, Mr. McCullagh, to your matter, I must have time to think it over. I can't say I will help you, but neither do I say I will 'not. It is far too big a thing for me; but I shall see a gentleman to-day who might feel disposed to go into it. Come here to-morrow afternoon. No, give me your address, and I will write to you.''By the bye,' he added, as Robert handed him a card, 'you came here to ask for my advice, did you not? That I can give you at once. Take your father's offer, and learn to save shillings. What you don't like it, don't you? What you really want is help to take your own course. You are not singular. Most of the people I come in contact with desire nothing better than the loan of a few hundred or thousand pounds, as the case may be, to enable them to go to the devil. Now, never hereafter say I did not give you fair warning.

Your father, I feel sure, is a most sensible gentleman; but I am afraid he has a very foolish son.'With which genial remark, pleasantly and smilingly spoken, Mr. Snow escorted his visitors across both the inner and outer offices, held the door open for them to pass out, and wished them a smiling 'Good-morning.''Well,' said Robert, as they walked through the alley leading into Suffolk-lane, 'what are the chances?''He'll do it,' answered Alf Mostin. 'I never knew him entertain a matter, and then drop it. As a rule, he's a rare fellow at saying no.''Do you really think he knows any one who would advance seven thousand pounds?''He knows himself,' was the reply, somewhat roughly spoken. 'I tell you he means to let you have the money; but, Bob--''Yes, Alf.''Take a fool's advice, and go no further into this affair. Mischief will come of it. I cannot tell you why, and I cannot tell you how; but I feel as sure evil must come of your going into Pousnetts' house as that I see that old graveyard now.''What has come to you?' asked his cousin.'I do not know, only I am sorry I ever brought you and that old fox together. It does not signify to a man like myself, who has nothing to lose; but you have everything to lose, Bob. Promise me, do promise, that, let him write what he like, you will have nothing more to do with him.''Alf, you have gone crazy.''Have I? Well, time alone can show. Onlookers see most of the game, remember; and if Snow has not a game of some sort on, I am greatly mistaken.''I do not care what game he has on, so long as he gets me seven thousand pounds by hook or by crook.''It will be by crook,' muttered Alf Mostin bitterly.'So let it be,' said Robert McCullagh, stretching out his hand in farewell. 'Good-bye for the present. Mr. Pousnett will wonder what has become of me. I will be sure and let you know when I hear from Mr. Snow.'And he was gone.CHAPTER X.
MR. SNOW'S CAPITALIST.'I THOUGHT you had construed my words too literally,' said Mr. Pousnett to his manager, whom  he encountered and stopped in Leadenhall-street, 'and never meant to enter the office again.'Had it not been for that interview in Bush-lane, Robert felt he would have turned very sick; for there was a ring in Mr. Pousnett's voice which told the younger man, had he stayed away altogether, his principal might not have proved inconsolable.But, as matters stood, everything was not lost--one chance still remained. Not yet did it seem necessary for him to face the question of seeking another situation, or of commencing on his 'own account'--Heaven save the mark!--with Mr. McCullagh's five hundred pounds and Mr. McCullagh's supervision.'I am very sorry, sir,' he answered, 'to be so late; I hope you will excuse me. Last night my father asked me to go round to Basinghall-street this morning, and then--''Any change in the wind there?' interrupted Mr. Pousnett, unheeding the two last words in Robert's unfinished sentence.'Not as regards the partnership, though he seemed willing enough to assist me in a small way. Since I left him, however, I have seen a cousin of mine, who thinks I can get the money you require through another source. I presume, sir,' hurried on Robert, speaking thickly and nervously from sheer excitement, 'that if the seven thousand pounds be forthcoming it will make no difference to you who advances it?'Just for an instant Mr. Pousnett hesitated; then he said slowly,'Always supposing he be respectable.''He is quite respectable,' answered Robert, who was, had he only known it, saying a great deal for Mr. Snow.In that case,' agreed Mr. Pousnett, 'if you are able to find the money I still adhere to my offer. Clearly understand,

however, the amount must be paid in cash. I was willing in your father's case to concede something, and take bills; but I will not take any other man's paper.''I quite understand that, sir,' replied the younger McCullagh, who had not till the present instant given the matter a thought.'And when do you imagine you shall know for certain what your friend can do for you?' asked Mr. Pousnett, flicking a grain of dust off his glove as he spoke.'In a very few days-within a week,' said Robert, who was not going to cast his fate into the scales within the next twenty-four hours if he could help it.'Very well, then; for a week the matter shall remain open,' agreed Mr. Pousnett. 'When you get to the office you will find several things waiting your attention.''I did not mean to be so late, sir; but when one is talking time slips away, and--''It is not of any consequence,' said Mr. Pousnett, cutting across his manager's apologies; and then he proceeded towards the Exchange, while Robert sped along in the opposite direction.Meanwhile Mr. Snow was standing in his office, one arm resting on the chimneypiece, one foot placed on the fender, looking at the fire.He stood thus for some time quite quiet. From his rapt contemplation of the smouldering coals, any one might have imagined he was considering some abstruse problem connected with the laws of heat. Usually a busy man, and one not given to reverie, the change which had come over him since the cousins quitted his office was remarkable. If they had left him the Philosopher's Stone for analysis, he could not have appeared absorbed in a more profound reverie.At length in a moment his mood changed. He took his foot off the fender, and planted it firmly on the ground. He lifted his arm from the chimneypiece, and, feeling for his watch, looked at the time; then, crossing to the table, he placed such correspondence as the morning's post had brought in one of the drawers, and locked it up; after which he put on his hat and top-coat, crossed the outer office, went out, saying merely in passing to his clerk, who had returned some time before, 'I shall not be back much before two o'clock, James.'Mr. Snow, in unconscious emulation of Mr. Pousnett's example, pursued his way likewise to the heart of the City.But he had no intention of going on 'Change; he had nothing in the way of merchandise to buy or sell. Foreign bills often came into his hands; but  not such foreign bills as are offered and purchased at high noon where men do congregate.Mr. Snow's way led him to many banks. The business in which he was engaged required the cooperation of several obliging managers, just as the insurance risk upon some great concern or ship has to be divided amongst various offices and underwriters. Save Rothschilds or the Old Lady in Thread-needle-street, no bank was too big for him. Except it appeared in the shape of some outcome of a loan-office or friendly society, none seemed too small. He had to do with the most modest of private banks and the largest of joint-stocks; he kept what called a little account with most of the leading houses in Lombard-street, and maintained many other accounts besides. No one could have accused Mr. Snow of trusting all his eggs in one basket; the wonder was how he contrived to procure even one egg for all the nests he made.Having finished his business with the great establishments, Mr. Snow sought out a dingy edifice in a narrow lane. On the doors, innocent for years of fresh paint or varnish, a brass plate bore the name of a most obscure firm of bankers--men who, nevertheless, did a good and thriving business amongst small and struggling traders. Inside, the place looked as dull and shabby as though it were out-at-elbows with Fortune; the floor was dirty, the counters were of painted deal, the brass fittings looked as though they had never been cleaned for a quarter of a century. The principal clerk sat perched up on a high stool behind an old desk covered with green baize, spattered all over with ink-stains and notched by the penknives of successive generations of clerks with initials and hieroglyphics some of which were almost as old as the bank itself.Mr. Snow was evidently an accustomed and welcome visitor. At sight of him a young lad nodded brightly in answer to his words of greeting; a cashier came forward to take his cheque, and the clerk descended from his stool and advanced to the counter.'Mr. Meakin in?' asked the new-comer.'He is not in at present; and, in fact, I do not think he will be back this afternoon. Anything I can have the pleasure of doing for you to-day, sir?' and the clerk rubbed his hands jubilantly. The sight of this just man and clever financier was more than grateful to him.'I only want a few pounds,' was the reply; 'as usual, I have left myself without a sixpence.'As if leaving oneself without a sixpence was the best joke imaginable, the boy, the cashier, and the head-clerk laughed in unison.'You will have your jest, Mr. Snow,' said the eldest of the three. 'Come in, sir, and Artill will bring you your change. Should you like a note, or all in gold; and do you want any silver? Very well, sir! All in gold, Artill, you hear! Sit down, pray;' and having got Mr. Snow into the dismal stuffy little office, sacred to the firm when any of those gentlemen were at the bank, the clerk pulled forward an ancient arm-chair and again earnestly entreated the visitor to be seated.'Well, Fletcher, and what is the best of your news?' asked Mr. Snow, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms as he put the question.'News, sir!' repeated Fletcher. 'Lord bless you, there is never any news here! Year in, year out, it is just the same old humdrum routine.''You have not been making your fortune, then, I presume?''No; and what is worse, I am not likely to make it.''That is a pity; but there is one comfort--you are not placed in a position where you could easily lose one if even you felt inclined.''You may take an oath of that, Mr. Snow, so long as Mr. Meakin has his eyesight.'Mr. Snow laughed.'Sees a new necktie, does he not, on the spot?''That he does. The boy out there, Charley, declares he knows when anybody puts on a fresh pair of socks.''It is a fault in the right direction,' observed Mr. Snow. 'Even his failings, Fletcher, lean to virtue's side. Thank you,' he added, speaking to the cashier, who at this juncture laid a little pile of gold on the table beside him; 'quite correct: I am  obliged. And so there is nothing new with you, Mr. Fletcher?''No, Mr. Snow; we are still singing the same old song.''To the same melodious accompaniment,' suggested Mr. Snow, letting the sovereigns slip slowly from the fingers of his right hand into the palm of his left.'As you say, sir, to the same accompaniment.'Mr. Snow reversed his previous experiment and let the

gold slip gently and tenderly from his left hand into his right; then he produced a little canvas bag, poured the coins into it, tied a scrap of red tape round the neck, and thrust the precious parcel into his pocket. This operation performed, he rose to go; in fact, was at the door of the office, when he stopped suddenly.'O, by the bye,' he said, 'I recollect now what I was going to ask you. Do you know anything of a Mr. Pousnett?''I know there is a Mr. Pousnett, a very wealthy merchant. Do you mean that gentleman?''Very likely. His place is somewhere in or off Leadenhall-street.''The same, sir. He is in an enormous way of business; trades all over the world.''Does he, now?' said Mr. Snow suggestively.'Bless you, yes! He is one of the merchant princes of the City.''Any of his paper ever come here?''No such luck, sir.''Isn't there even one amongst your many customers who has any transactions with him, then?''Our people are all of them--most of them, I mean,' added Fletcher, correcting himself, mindful he was addressing a customer, 'in a small way. We have had consequently Pousnetts' cheques here occasionally, but never any paper. The firm won't accept a bill for what that house calls a trifling amount; they pay cash, and deduct five per cent.''In other words, they discount their own bills at twenty per cent; not a bad notion,' commented Mr. Snow.'Five per cent per annum, sir,' explained Messrs. Meakin's head-clerk.'Even that means a profit,' said Mr. Snow. 'I wonder, now, what amount a house like that considers trifling. It would be interesting for poor people like us to know that, eh, Fletcher?''You have such a way of putting things, Mr. Snow!' exclaimed Fletcher. 'As if all the world isn't aware you are as rich as any man need desire to be!''I am not at all rich,' was the answer. 'I am very poor in comparison to Pousnett. I have to look sharply after sovereigns-shillings, indeed, for that matter. How much do you suppose the big merchant in Leadenhall-street regards as bagatelle?''I can't say exactly; but I have heard five hundred pounds. I think the limit is about five hundred.''After that I may go,' said Mr. Snow, laughing: 'though I really did hear this morning something even better.''What was it, sir, if I may make so bold as to ask?''Only the name of a man who will neither take nor give a bill; who, in fact, has never drawn nor accepted since he started in business.''That must be old McCullagh in Basinghall-street.''You are right; old McCullagh is the man.''Have you had any business dealings with him, Mr. Snow?' asked Fletcher tentatively.'To quote your own eloquent words, my friend, "no such luck." I should like to have a deal with him, only that, as I suppose you know, it is said, "A canny Scot would outwit Shylock any day;" what chance should I have in such an encounter?'If the expression of Mr. Fletcher's face at that moment were any reflex of what was passing in his mind, he thought Mr. Snow's chance would be a remarkably good one; but he only said,'I have always heard old McCullagh spoken of as a very fair-dealing sort of man. Hard and careful about a halfpenny, but just.''You do not know him, then, personally?''No; I have seen him. A queer-looking little fellow he is too; I am acquainted with those who have done business with him; but I never spoke to Mr. McCullagh in my life.''His sons seem likely to do even better than their father.''Indeed! How many sons has he, Mr. Snow?''I am not sure; two, at any rate.''And they are in a way of pushing their fortunes?''Well, yes. I think you will say so when I tell you one of them, who has been in a Liverpool house, is about to marry the daughter of his employer, and become one of the firm; and the eldest son--''He is manager at Pousnetts', I just remember,' interpolated Mr. Fletcher, as Mr. Snow paused.'Quite right; and they have offered him a partnership.'You cannot mean that, sir?''I do; it is all but settled. The matter might have been arranged long ago, but for some stupid delay and hesitation on the part of old McCullagh.''He did not want to come down with the amount of cash needful, I suppose?' conjectured Mr. Fletcher.'Very likely. He threw impediments in the way, at any rate; but they are all removed, I am told.''He'll just go mad with pride now;, said the head-clerk. 'How some people do get on, to be sure! They say he came to London without a shoe to his foot, and began business in a cellar; and look at him now! Why, before he dies, he'll be amongst the first in the City!''I believe Mr. Pousnett has the highest opinion of old McCullagh--asks him to dine, and all that sort of thing.''Isn't it just wonderful how one successful man finds out another? observed Mr. Fletcher plaintively. 'It does not seem to matter how far divided they may be in other respects as long they are rich--merely rich.'They are like the rogues. If there is a thief at this present minute travelling into London by ay road, I'll lay a sovereign that within an hour he has discovered a bosom-friend whom he never saw nor heard of before in his life; that they will sup together and lodge together to-night, a lay their plans for committing a burglary all before they sleep. It is the same with needy people, with adventurers, with swindlers is only the honest folk, it seems to me, who never recognise each other.'Having uttered which truism Mr. Snow said good-afternoon, and passed out of the bank, leaving as usual golden opinions behind him.From Meakins' bank to Bow is a long walk; but Mr. Snow did not seek any conveyance to transport him thither. He was fond of exercise, and would have liked more than he had time to take; for that tendency to grow fat, which has been already mentioned, caused him, occasionally, some uneasiness. Moreover, he knew, by experience, that a man can think twice as much when he is walking alone as when he is sitting alone; and he had a good deal to think out and arrange as he plodded through Mile-end, and over Globe Bridge, and so on to one of the old red-brick houses standing near the church at Bow.Judging from externals, no human being would have supposed that house was the residence of a wealthy man. For outlook, it had in front all the traffic, and din, and dirt, and misery of that great East-end thoroughfare; the south-west wind bore to it the villanous smells and sulphurous vapours of Bow Common; at the back it had a distant view of the

Hackney and Lea marshes, while to one side it was hemmed in by a manufactory, and on the other jostled by houses of about the same age and condition as itself. The brass knocker had been rubbed up to a state of brightness in which Mr. Snow could see the reflection of his own nose and chin with exasperating fidelity; the step was of a snowy whiteness; the window-sills were clean as sills could be; the wire-gauze blinds that guarded the dining-room from vulgar gaze had not the suspicion of a rent in any of the tender fret-work. When the door was opened, the visitor found himself in a hall, where, though everything was old, all things were polished and beeswaxed to an extent which suggested that honest poverty felt determined to make the best of its surroundings, and that, though it could not afford to replace the worn floor-cloth or the threadbare stair-carpeting, the clock-case and the hat-stand should shine resplendent as a good deed in a wicked world.There was a smell of dinner, however, which somewhat negatived the idea of short means conveyed by the appearance of the furniture. It seemed savoury when wafted to the nostrils of a man who had eaten nothing since breakfast; but he knew enough of the ways of the establishment to understand it was but the fragrance of a departed meal which hung about the hall.Mr. Alty, like Mr. McCullagh, was partial to an early dinner, only he preferred the hour of three to that which found favour in the eyes of Robert's father. What the family doctor said to the mode of life Mr. Alty adopted, history telleth not; but one thing is certain, if any person now followed the same fashion, premature death would be prophesied as his fate.Mr. Alty breakfasted--and breakfasted well--at nine. He then proceeded to the despatch of such business as required his attention, about twelve eating in some tavern a crust of bread and a piece of cheese, washed down by half a pint of his favourite ale. At three he returned to dinner, after which meal he drank punch, and slept till tea-time.  At nine he supped; and then, a square decanter of whisky and a kettle of boiling water being again produced, he drank steadily on till half-past eleven, when he went to bed.And to look at him any one might have imagined he was a strict teetotaler, who had never partaken of a good joint in his life. Sallow, thin, white-haired, slow of speech, apparently slow of thought, that man would have needed to be swift as a hare and cunning as a fox who, even at a quarter-past

eleven o'clock at night, hoped to get the best of Mr. Alty in a bargain.This was Mr. Snow's capitalist, to whom the neat housemaid announced a visitor by first rapping gently the dining-room, and then saying softly,'Mr. Snow, sir, if it is quite convenient for you to see him.''Mr. Snow-ah!' said Mr. Alty, who had just mixed his first glass of punch. Show him in, Sarah, show him in at once.'He might have sat for a picture of Benevolence as he turned smilingly, towards his friend, with the bright firelight irradiating his serene face, and leaping about the walls, and throwing bright darts into the street, where the afternoon shadows were already darkening. He looked so kind and cordial, so thoroughly comfortable, so surrounded by life's comforts and the world's good cheer, that a simple guileless sort of person might have been seduced into asking him for the loan of five pounds, or the gift of a sovereign to help some poor widow in her extremity. His face was wreathed with smiles, his eyes actually twinkled with hospitality.'I am delighted to see you, Snow,' he said, as that gentleman was commencing some lame apology for intruding upon Mr. Alty's dinner-hour. 'Pull up your chair; touch the bell, if you don't mind, and Sarah shall bring another tumbler.''Not for me, thank you,' answered Mr. Snow.'Since when have you become a total abstainer? asked Mr. Alty, surprised.'Since no time,' was the reply; 'but I dare not drink when I am fasting, and I have had nothing to-day except my breakfast.''Well, that is an omission you can surely supply now,' said his genial friend. 'There is something in the larder off which you will be able to make a meal, I'll go bound. There is a piece of capital corned beef in cut, I know. We had pheasant to-day for dinner, but I am afraid to offer you any of that: first, because there was very little left; and second, because it would be in that worst of states--between hot and cold.''No, I would rather try the corned beef, thank you,' Mr. Snow declared. He understood well enough that Mr. Alty wanted to pick the pheasant's remaining bones for supper. 'There is one great merit about your house,' he went on, spicing his speech with a pleasant flattery,--'a person may be sure whatever you offer him to eat or to drink is of the best possible quality.''I endeavour to have such the case,' said Mr. Alty, assuming no airs of modest self-depreciation, but, on the contrary, answering Mr. Snow's remark with the most serious gravity; 'for I hold,' he proceeded, crossing his legs and sipping his punch in a manner suggestive of the keenest enjoyment, 'that no money which a man spends on himself is wasted. Do not look so surprised at my statement, but hear me to the end. Good food and good liquor--you will admit they are not wasted; suitable clothing, warm in winter, cool in summer--that is not a superfluity either. A liberal expenditure of fuel indoors I suppose you will admit to be merely prudent; and the use of omnibuses and even cabs, when proceeding on any necessary business, is not to be gainsaid in order to save fatigue and avoid exposure to the weather. It is the moment a man begins to spend for others that he begins to go wrong.''I have followed you so far with interest,' remarked Mr. Snow, as his coadjutor paused in his pompous periods and took a pinch of snuff. 'I have no doubt I shall continue to listen with interest to the end of your argument.''When a person buys new furniture, for instance,' proceeded Mr. Alty,' he does not buy it for himself.''For whom then, in the name of Heaven?' asked Mr. Snow.'For his wife or his neighbours; to humour Mrs. Green in the next street, or excite the envy of Mrs. Brown over the way. I have been thinking the whole question out to-day, and decided that the moment when a man forgets himself and commences to think of others is the moment when he takes his first step towards ruin. First he refurnishes, then he starts a trap, then he removes to a new neighbourhood, then he begins to give parties, then he neglects his business, then he finds his way to Whitecross-street, and then,' concluded Mr. Alty, finishing the contents of his tumbler at one gulp, 'he goes to the deuce.''I never looked at the matter before from your point of view,' said Mr. Snow; 'but I daresay you are quite right. Where I suppose most men would find the bother is the exact point where self ceases to be considered and some one else comes forward demanding attention.''Yet it is as simple as A B C,' suggested Mr. Alty.'I see it is, as you put it,' answered Mr. Snow dryly. 'The whole idea is new to me; but I admit it is worthy of the most careful consideration.''You will find it so, if you want to make money, or keep money when you have made it. And now what is it, if I may ask, brought you here this afternoon? I know you did not come solely for the purpose of solacing a poor invalid?''An invalid? Have you been ill, then?''Very ill. Caliban never was plagued with fiercer aches and pains. Stitches, cramps, and the devil knows what besides, have been racking my poor body. I am better; but if I had followed the doctor's advice I should not have been sitting opposite to you now. "Eat what you like," he said, "but drink easy." For two days I tried his prescription. On the evening of the third I asked for a looking-glass. I just took one glance at my face. "Bring me up a bottle of the old port," I called to my sister, as well as I was able. "But, my dear Jacob--" she remonstrated. "Bring me the port!" I shouted; and she did. I finished it before I went to sleep, and I verily believe they all expected to find me dead in my bed next morning. However, instead of that I got up, and crawled down into this room before the doctor called. "Ah, you are better," he said; and then he felt my pulse. "A great deal better. We cannot improve upon the treatment, I think." "I think not," I answered. "You are making a wonderful recovery," he said. "Yes, I feel I am," was my reply; but I did not tell him a word about the wine, or he might have cut off the medicine. "You may have a little weak sherry-and-water to-day," he said, "with your sole, if you fancy it." I told him I did not care for sherry-and-water. "Perhaps you are just as well without any stimulant for the present," he said, and then he went.''Why did you not write to me?' asked Mr. Snow; 'or get some one else to write to me? I would have come over at once.''I can't bear making a fuss about illness. It seems to bring--you know what I mean.'Mr. Snow nodded.Like the devils, there are times when even men like Mr. Alty believe and tremble.'Still, I wish I had known,' said the junior in sin as well as in age. 'You must have wanted a person to talk to.''I did indeed. If it had not been for books, I don't know what I should have done.'Marvellous contradiction! this creature read! He had Shakespeare at his fingers' end; on his shelves were tomes for

which collectors would have given fabulous prices. He was an antiquarian and a lover of all the side-paths along which may be gathered those flowers which redeem and beautify the arid tale of English history.Mr. Snow looked at him, and considered that better were the many children at Enfield Highway, and the wife who sometimes was not so pleasant as she might have been, than the dreary household at Bow, where this old man lived but for himself and to add thousand to thousand, not knowing who might gather.By this time he had finished a moderate meal of beef and bread, and, declining to partake of a jam-tart hospitably sent in by Miss Alty, was mixing himself a small modicum of whisky and cold water when his host spoke again:'But after all, Snow, you have not told me what brought you here this afternoon.''I want you to lend me four thousand pounds for a month.''Of course; but what do you want it for?''A speculation which may, or may not, turn out well.''Can't I go into it with you?''I think not. You might not like it.''O, if the matter is a secret--' began Mr. Alty.'There is no secret about it,' said Mr. Snow. 'Only, as I have made up my mind to go into the affair, I don't want to waste time in useless argument.''All right; you shall have the four thousand whether I take any part of the risk or not. Now what is the venture?'Ere he replied, Mr. Snow pushed his chair closer to Mr. Alty, and replenished his glass.CHAPTER XI.
HOPE IS EXCHANGED FOR CERTAINTY.ENGAGED next morning in shaving (an operation he performed with religious punctuality), Robert McCullagh heard the postman's knock, and, razor suspended, paused in agony of expectation to listen if the missive was for him. His suspense was not of long continuance. Another moment and he heard the poor little drudge-of-all-work running up the stairs, then a letter was thrust under the door. Spite of Robert's superior predilections there was not much of the ceremony of service, and of handing about of cards and notes on salvers in that house.Almost before it left the girl's fingers Robert had seized the envelope. It was blue. It was not directed in any hand he knew: it must be from Mr. Snow. His excitement was so great he had to pause before examining its contents.Suppose Mr. Snow had decided to say no? Robert McCullagh's hand shook so much, he could not have finished shaving at that moment if the whole seven thousand pounds had been his for doing so.All at once he made a dash at the envelope, and tore it open; his eyes raced over the enclosure: 'Seen my friend--certain conditions--am willing to meet your views--call upon me after four o'clock to-morrow.'The young man sat down; he could not see to read every word in the short letter then.Thankfulness, triumph, a sense of unreality, a disbelief which failed to accept the evidence even of his own senses, a mad delight which threatened to choke him--these and fifty other feelings strove together in Robert's breast as he said, almost aloud,'So after all I shall be a partner in Pousnetts'!'And then another vision arose, smiling, before his mind's eye. That girl he had seen in North-street! He must find out who she was and where she lived--he could not rest till

he knew more about her. All things seemed possible to him at that moment--love, position, wealth, happiness. The stream of his life was running fast and free that morning, making melody as it went; and the song it sung was all about success and beauty, pink cheeks and sunny brown hair, and vessels bearing costly freights from the other side of the world for the benefit of Robert McCullagh junior.He had never shaved himself so badly. Neither in Mrs. Mostin's long experience of him had he ever looked so well as when he entered the common sitting-room that morning.'Why, Robert,' she cried, 'you look as gay as a lark, and as blithe as a linnet! Have you had good news?''I have had news I hope will prove good,' he answered, with a little reticence. He was afraid of speaking of his probable fortune lest it should fade away like precious stones in the old fairy-tales.Before he went to business, Robert gave the poor little drudge half-a-crown. His was not a nature to keep all the sunshine that fell across its path strictly for its own benefit. The young man had ever been prone to make presents. From the day he left his father's roof his lot was cast amongst people who, receiving freely, gave lavishly; and thus both example and temperament induced what many people would have called an excess of generosity, which failing indicated the fact that young McCullagh lacked one essential element of success.That day McCullagh junior said nothing to his employer of the good fortune impending; but Mr. Pousnett, furtively regarding his manager when they came in contact, knew Robert's hopes were great.'He believes he will get the money,' decided Mr. Pousnett. 'Well, we shall see.'Meanwhile, true to his promise, Robert despatched a note to his cousin, saying he had heard from Mr. Snow, and was to see that gentleman in the course of the afternoon. He did not feel sorry to recollect the shortness of Mr. Snow's notice left no time for consultation with the sage of North-street.For good or for evil, he had decided to become a partner in Pousnetts' house if he could anyhow manage to do so; and he did not want to hear any more unpleasant remarks or listen to absurd warnings on the subject.Naturally Alf Mostin--who was notorious for never keeping a promise where paying money chanced to be concerned, whose name on a bill as acceptor could not be regarded as

other than a mere waste of paper and stamp, who muddled away hundreds of pounds, who was a disgrace in the matter of dress, who mismanaged every chance Fortune threw across his path--felt alarmed at the idea of a man, who had a great deal to lose, hampering his future with seven thousand pounds borrowed from a usurer. Alf knew it would be impossible for Robert to slip out of his responsibilities. He was aware if his cousin failed to meet his engagements, not merely great scandal, but total ruin, must ensue. Mr. Pousnett's manager looked quite tolerantly at Alf's view of the matter, because, as he decided, his cousin took the wrong view so far as the future partnership was concerned. Mr. McCullagh junior felt satisfied that whatever liabilities he incurred he would discharge. In all his life he had never owed a man a penny he could not, and did not, pay. He knew the position of Pousnetts' house, and believed his share of the profits would amount to something over fifteen hundred a year at least. Well, he could, and he would, live on two hundred. He had no doubt at all about being able to repay the whole amount in a short time.It was nearly five o'clock before he found himself in Bush-lane. The day had been an exceptionally busy one, and even at that advanced hour he met with some difficulty in leaving the warehouse.When he reached Mr. Snow's office he found a clerk mounting guard in the outer room; a very respectable and well-behaved young man, who had the sleekest of sleek black hair; a most composed demeanour; a quiet gentle voice; an expression as if, since he was short-coated, he had never thought of such a thing as a will of his own; and an air of subdued deference which recommended him both to his employer and his employer's many visitors.He was dressed in shabby but well-brushed black; snowy linen; the tie of his cravat was neatness itself. He wore for a watchchain a very slight thread of gold, manufactured in what used to be called the Venetian pattern. He looked poor, but like one who had known better times, and might see greater prosperity in the future.'I like that young fellow of yours,' said Mr. Arty to Mr. Snow one day. 'Knows his place.''He has not much brains,' answered Mr. Snow; 'but he does his best, and he is useful.''You don't want too much brains in a clerk,' remarked Mr. Alty oracularly.'No, I don't,' agreed Mr. Snow. 'Still, I should like some.'It was the young fellow his employer considered deficient in this respect who asked Robert his name.'McCullagh,' was the reply. 'I am here by appointment.'Next moment he found himself in the presence chamber.'You received my letter, I suppose,' suggested Mr. Snow blandly.'Yes. I am sorry I could not get here sooner. I had a great deal to do to-day.''I said after four, if you recollect,' observed Mr. Snow, in bland reminder, 'and therefore you are in time. Well, now as to your matter. I have seen my friend, and he is willing on my recommendation to go into it. As to terms, our idea is ten per cent interest, and that some portion of the principal shall be paid off each year. Though you did not think of giving your father any percentage, I hope you consider that, as strangers, we are reasonable in our propositions.''Most reasonable,' agreed Robert.'I am glad of that,' said Mr. Snow, with a slight inclination of his head. 'As we are disposed to meet your wishes and consider your convenience, it is satisfactory to find our motives appreciated. To revert to business, however. On the first of January and of July in each year we shall require your promissory note for the amount of principal due and the interest for six months. It will also be necessary for you to insure your life, and assign the policy for this debt. You have no objection to doing that, I suppose?''Not the least,' answered Robert readily.'My friend makes it a sine quâ non that Mr. Pousnett is put in possession of all the facts of the case.''I have no objection to his knowing everything,' said young McCullagh.'And that I see him personally on the subject,' went on Mr. Snow, as though his visitor had not spoken.'I shall be very glad, indeed, for you to do so.''You see it is a large sum, and we should like to know exactly what we are doing, and whether we stand on firm ground or not,' explained Mr. Snow.'I scarcely understand what you .mean by that,' said Robert; 'but it is only reasonable you should wish to satisfy yourselves, and I do not want to keep any secrets from Mr. Pousnett.''Then will you arrange for me to see him?' asked Mr. Snow.'Certainly. Will you excuse me asking you one question?''A dozen, if you like,' was the ready answer; but had Alf Mostin been there he would have seen Mr. Snow instantly put on defensive armour, a shirt of mail under his frank and easy manner.'Thank you, but I only want to say one thing. When--or perhaps I ought rather to use the word if--this partnership is arranged--''Yea,' observed Mr. Snow, to show he was attending to his visitors hesitating utterances and kindly wished to encourage him.'You will not expect Mr. Pousnett to take bills for the amount? He was willing to do so in my father's case; but I should be afraid--''You need not be afraid,' interrupted Mr. Snow. 'We take paper here; but we do not give it. No; when the matter is properly settled, the money shall be forthcoming.''I hope you forgive my plain speaking?' said Robert, immensely relieved.'There is nothing like a plain understanding about every affair in life,' answered Mr. Snow. 'And, to show you I act up to my profession, I will now tell you that if, to quote your own expression, this partnership becomes un fait accomipli, you will find you have bound yourself to a very heavy thing. Because, mind you, we shall expect to be paid, and to be paid first. So long as you deal fairly and honestly by us, we shall consider your convenience, so far as it is possible, with a due regard to our own interests; but we should not feel disposed to wait long out in the cold if we saw you launching into extravagance or neglecting our payments.''You will not find me doing either one thing or the other,' Robert replied.'I hope we shall not; but you will be placed in a difficult position, more especially as I must bind you not to mention how you are situated to any one except Mr. Pousnett and your cousin. It would not answer our purpose for the world to know we had done a thing of the sort. It is quite out of our line. If Pousnetts had not stood as they do, nothing on earth would have induced me to advise my friend to entertain the idea even for a moment.'For my sake, independent of you altogether, I should

observe secrecy about the matter,' said Robert. 'Life might become inexpressibly disagreeable to me if my father knew I was borrowing money from a stranger.''Ay, and such a stranger,' capped Mr. Snow, hammering in the nail Robert had struck so feebly. 'As you know--for your cousin told you the truth, no doubt--we are money-lenders here, pure and simple--money-lenders who, as a rule, ask a long percentage, and get it too; who have kept many a man's head above water when he must otherwise have sunk; but who are thought none the better of in the commercial world for that. Make no mistake about the sort of persons you are dealing with, and talk as little as may be about me and my office in Bush-lane. In fact, were I you, I should not come here again at all. Mr. Mostin could transact everything there is to be done. You can trust him, I suppose?''O yes, I can trust Alf.''Yes, I fancy he is to be trusted, except in that little trifling matter of never meeting a bill nor paying a debt. I will call on Mr. Pousnett any day and hour he may appoint. And now, Mr. McCullagh, since we have, I believe, said all there is to say, the sooner you go the better I shall be pleased, as I have still some letters to write before post.'CHAPTER XII.
ALL ABOUT HER.'So you would not take warning; you have put your head into the lion's mouth.'It was Mr. Alf Mostin who spoke--Mr. Mostin, not engaged on this occasion in frying bacon and preparing coffee, but employed in the, to him, far more congenial task of mixing punch.A week had passed since Robert's interview with Mr. Snow. The remains of a modest supper were still on the table; but Alf had drawn a small stand close  up to the fire, and, with all the materials for what he called 'spending an innocent evening' within reach, invited Robert to draw forward his chair and enjoy himself.'Your father can get no better whisky than that,' he remarked, pushing a brimming tumbler to his visitor, and noticing as he did so the cloud his former speech had brought over Robert's face.'Possibly,' was the somewhat sulky answer; 'but he would not pay as much for it.''I paid nothing for it,' answered Mr. Mostin. 'You can't buy what your father calls " a guid sperrit" at a much cheaper rate.''You will have to pay for it, though, I suppose,' retorted Robert.'No, I sha'n't,' replied his cousin. 'Two gallons were sent to me yesterday as a present.''You seem to have got in luck's way.''So far as eight quarts of whisky are concerned, I have.''How long will eight quarts of whisky last you, Alf?''That entirely depends upon the number of friends who come and help me drink them; also on whether I give a few bottles away; also whether I offer any of the precious fluid as an oblation on the altar of self-interest. Snow might be propitiated with half a gallon.''He might, as he says he never can get any money of you.''A mere figure of speech,' retorted Mr. Mostin. 'Did he use it in the course of friendly conversation?''He said something of the sort, but I was too much occupied with my own affairs at the time to pay much attention to his remark; and I might have forgotten it altogether if he had not repeated the statement to Mr. Pousnett, who mentioned it to me.''And if it is a fair question, how did my good name happen to come up between your great chief and my little Shylock?''Simply enough. Mr. Pousnett wished to know something about the gentleman through whose introduction I had been fortunate enough to make Mr. Snow's acquaintance.''And then Shylock launched out into eulogiums upon his favourite client.''So far as I can understand, he did nothing of the sort,' answered Robert quickly. 'He said you were a splendid hand at borrowing, but slower than any tortoise about repaying.''Et tu, Brute!' exclaimed Mr. Mostin sadly; 'and thou, my Shylock--to whom I had taken the rare sovereign and the hardly-earned shilling; to whom I have introduced men harder up even than myself--men willing to pay any interest under heaven for the sake of a few pounds slowly doled out by those unwilling hands. But 'twas ever thus. Pray proceed, Robert. Had these two righteous men any further fault to find with your obedient servant?''Mr. Pousnett had no fault to find whatever. On the contrary, it seems he was rather captivated by Mr. Snow's description of you, although that gentleman went on to say you knew neither how to get up in the morning, nor how to go to bed at night.''Really! His acquaintance with my little weaknesses does him infinite credit. How did Shylock guess my infirmities? Can I ever, in an access of misplaced friendship, have taken him into my confidence?''You ought to be able to tell that better than I,' answered Robert; 'all I know is he described your habits accurately. More--he said you were a man of parts, who would never achieve any good thing either for himself or anybody else; that you had plenty of brains, which you could not or would not make use of; that if your own father were alive you would

ruin him with the best intentions; that if a bill-stamp were put into your hands you would do yourself some mischief within five minutes; and that, speaking broadly, you were going to the deuce as fast as man with a dozen irons in the fire, not one of which could ever by possibility get hot, can go.''And to all this sack was not there even a mite of bread?' asked Alf Mostin plaintively. 'Had Shylock not one good word to say of the impecunious wretch he has helped to ruin? Stay, I must be just. Snow, after all, has only helped me to ruin myself.'There was something in the tone in which Alf Mostin spoke the last few words that arrested his cousin's attention, for before answering he turned and looked sharply at his companion.'Surely, Alf,' he exclaimed, 'it is optional with a man whether he ruins himself or not!''Quite. O, of course, quite optional! Circumstances, associations, temperament, the tricks of that jade Fortune, have whatever to do with the matter. But to revert to our Snow: could he not find one word to speak on my behalf?''He found several,' replied Robert reddening, and trying to cover his embarrassment with an affectation of easy indifference which aroused Mr. Mostin's curiosity.'For instance--' suggested his cousin.'He said you were very clever,--twice, three times over as clever as I am,' added young McCullagh, with a forced laugh; 'that you wrote a beautiful hand; that you were quick at figures except where your own affairs were concerned, when you made extraordinary errors; that you would attend carefully to any one's business but your own; that, if you could be induced to pay a little more attention to your personal appearance, you would, in a confidential capacity, be invaluable to any house; that though you never met your engagements, nor thought of meeting them, you could be trusted with untold gold; that, spite of the fact of your reformation being hopeless, he liked you better than many a better man; that in effect, in a way, there was no person he liked so much as impecunious, unstable, impetuous, Alfred Mostin.'The gentleman thus eulogised lifted the poker and broke a lump of coal; and, as he did so, the leaping blaze revealed a grave and thoughtful face.'We have heard,' he remarked, 'of the devil fiddling and

of the devil dancing; but I can't recall ever hearing of him in the character of a draughtsman. Just to give him his due, I think he has now produced a very fair sketch of me. It is not often a fellow recognises his own likeness. Does not the Bible say a man looks in the glass, and straightway goes away and forgets what manner of man he is? I am sure I did not exactly realise "myself" till Mr. Snow turned his lantern upon my shortcomings.''I think he spoke very fairly, Alf,' said his cousin.'O, you do, do you?' commented Alf.'Yes, I do. When Mr. Pousnett asked me about you afterwards, I was obliged to admit the truth of Mr. Snow's assertions.''You were, were you?''When he put the question to me straightforwardly, what could I say?''It does not much matter to me what you said,' answered Mr. Mostin shortly. 'Mix,' he added impatiently, pushing over the decanter; then seizing it himself, he remarked, 'Why, man, you have not drunk a drop of your punch! What ails you? What has ailed you ever since you came in?''Nothing ails me,' answered Mr. Robert McCullagh, applying himself to his neglected tumbler. 'You are not vexed, are you, Alf, at what I have just told you?''Vexed,' repeated his cousin; 'quite the contrary. Rather gratified; delighted to find myself, all of a sudden, a person of such consequence that a great man like Mr. Pousnett condescends to interest himself about my shortcomings; and, by the bye,' he went on suddenly, setting down his glass and turning so as to command a full view of his visitor's face, will you tell me how it came to pass Snow was so communicative? I have known him this many a year, yet he is the last man it ever occurred to me to suspect of the vice of gossiping for gossip's sake.''Mr. Pousnett, as I have told you, asked him about you.''But why did he ask him about me? Of what earthly interest could I or my affairs be to your chief?''Well, the fact is--''O, something does lie behind, then!''Mr. Pousnett, hearing I had been introduced to Mr. Snow by you--''Thought I might be even such another paragon as yourself, eh, Bob?''Being relations, he perhaps imagined we might be like each other,' amended his cousin.'A delusion which Mr. Snow soon dispelled.''Whatever Mr. Snow may have said, and I believe Mr. Pousnett repeated the gist of the conversation to me, did not produce an unfavourable impression.''How do you know that?''Because he still holds to the idea which prompted his questions.''He had, then, some underlying notion. I thought as much;' and Alf Mostin smiled significantly in confidence to the fire.'He said to Mr. Snow, so far as I understand matters: "Once this partnership is arranged we shall require another manager-not exactly in Mr. McCullagh's place, because we do not propose that another man shall step into such large shoes; but still a manager. Do you know of any one you think would suit?"''And straightway Mr. Snow said, "If you can induce Alf Mostin to take the berth, you may go to the Mediterranean, or Ceylon, or Terra del Fuego, with an easy mind. He will keep things together for you; he will steer the Pousnett craft off all dangerous coasts; enable her to weather any storm she may be called upon to encounter, and bring her safe into port laden with goodly merchandise, which he will dispose of to great advantage, and by first post remit the proceeds to your order, O mighty king!"''He said nothing of the sort,' retorted Robert testily. 'He assured Mr. Pousnett you were the last man it would, with your present habits, be safe to place in a position of trust; for, although you were perfectly honest as regarded hard cash, you were not to be relied upon in the matter of time; that, in fact, you had no idea of time; that if you made an appointment for eleven, you kept it about four, or possibly not at all.''Now I wonder who he thinks would be likely to keep an appointment with him?' soliloquised Mr. Mostin."'If he would only come to me when he ought to do, I should not say a word," Mr. Snow went on, Mr. Pousnett told Me, almost with tears in his eyes; " for I have a sincere liking for the young man, and want to help him to get out of my hands."''I daresay,' interpolated Alf gloomily.'"But for weeks and months together I not only do not see his money, but I do not see him." Mr. Pousnett was quite pleased with the manner in which Mr. Snow spoke. "There must be something very exceptional about your cousin," he remarked, "for him to have gained such a hold over a person like Mr. Snow."''Go on,' entreated Mr. Mostin; 'the play begins to thicken.''So far from Mr. Snow's plain speaking (and it seems to me he spoke very plainly) prejudicing Mr. Pousnett against you, whatever he said appears to have produced a precisely contrary effect. Mr. Pousnett, directly he had left, called me into his room, aud, after just mentioning that everything was satisfactorily arranged, and that, as soon as the lawyers had done their part, I should become one of the firm, plunged into the matter about you. "I am quite sure," he said, "Mr. Mostin would suit us; and, of course, I would rather have some one belonging to you in the office than a stranger."''And you?' asked Mr. Mostin quietly.'Well, Alf, what could I say? No cousin ever was fonder of another than I am of you; it would be strange if I were not. But I don't think you would be in your sphere at Pousnetts', and I could not say I thought you would. Could I ?''Certainly not,' agreed All Mostin. 'Truth before everything!''Mr. Pousnett would have a direct reply. He repeated to me what Mr. Snow had told him, and then asked my opinion point-blank. When I had given it, he cross-examined me as to the why and the wherefore; and then, when he had quite finished, before in fact he dismissed me--''I am waiting the end of your sentence,' observed Mr. Mostin as his cousin paused.'He said he should like to see you,' Robert hurried on; 'that he believed you and he would get on capitally together; that he had an aptitude for making useful goods out of unlikely raw material; that he felt sure, from what Mr. Snow had hinted and I had confessed, you would be the right man in the right place if he could induce you--that was his word, Alf--induce you to accept the post which would soon be vacant in the office.''He did not say anything else, did he?' asked Mr. Mostin.'Of what sort? I scarcely understand you.''He did not say, for example, that your description of your father had proved so far inaccurate, he thought he should like

to judge for himself whether you and Mr. Snow had done strict justice to me.'For a moment Robert McCullagh hung his head. If Mr. Pousnett had not, in so many words, said he doubted the truth of Mr. Snow's statements, duly confirmed by his manager, his manner implied that he felt far from satisfied.'People see with different eyes,' he remarked suavely. 'I should like to talk to your cousin myself.'Robert did not think it necessary to repeat this sentence; but Mr. Mostin knew it, or something very similar, had been uttered.'I'll go and see your governor with pleasure, Bob,' he remarked, after a pause, during which he had waited in vain for an answer. 'I am quite sure he wants me to call. Shall I make an appointment or take my chance?''You would never think, Alf, surely of taking a situation in Pousnetts'!' exclaimed Robert, aghast.'What, the future partner objects, does he?' conjectured Mr. Mostin, laughing. 'You don't want a poor devil like me in the office to stand between your worshipful self and the wind of your nobility. Make your mind quite easy, old chap. The salary could not be named which should induce me to take a berth in Pousnetts' house with you as one of the firm. For the rest, should Truth and I ever have to try a wrestle over your perfections, I think I shall do my best to pitch her over before I am so candid about your shortcomings as you confess to have been about mine.''I assure you, Alf--''It is no use, Bob; your own mouth has damned you; I see now what the future partner will be. God grant his pride may not meet with any very grievous fall. Just for to-night, however, we will forget all that. Mix, mix, mix! If any amount of liquor can make you genial, drink! I vow and protest I think your father would, under the influence of this splendid spirit, form a more lively companion than his son.''You are most unreasonable, Alf,' expostulated Robert; 'you screw secrets out of me, and then are angry because I can't tie people's tongues.''Nor your own.''I did not say a word except what Mr. Pousnett wrung from me.''I feel I am contracting quite an affection for Mr. Pousnett,' said Mr. Mostin, with forced enthusiasm. 'Upon second

thoughts, my dear cousin, I shall not leave this matter in your hands; I shall appoint a time and place for the momentous interview myself.''When it comes off, I hope you will allow me to lend or buy you some new clothes.''Why?''Because you have not the faintest idea of the effect your usual habiliments might produce?''Have you?''Yes, indeed, Alf; I know how much externals are considered in our office. Why, the youngest clerk there--''Dresses better than I do,' finished Mr. Mostin, as his cousin paused.'I did not mean to wound you; but such is indeed the fact,' said Mr. Robert McCullagh, with smug self-complacency.'It will take down their self-esteem a peg then, perhaps, for once to see a man who does not care the sixteenth part of a farthing for Pousnett, or his partners, or his clerks, or their clothes, or any single thing about the whole blessed concern,' answered Mr. Mostin, using the word blessed in a manner which indicated that it was employed quite in a satirical sense.'You are angry, Alf,' exclaimed his cousin, looking at him in surprised alarm.Mr. Mostin burst out laughing, lifted the poker again, hammered another lump of coal, threw down the blackened and misshapen piece of iron, drained his tumbler, and then, jumping up, walked about the room for a few moments, remarking good-humouredly,'Well, perhaps I was, Bob; you see, you are such a snob!' And he laughed again, but whether at his own thoughts or the disgusted expression on Robert's face, who could say?'What a lot of bosh we have been talking!' he declared, as he resumed his chair, and laid his hand once again on the too convenient decanter. 'Spoiling our evening, getting very near to quarrelling, putting an affront on prime liquor by discussing knaves and swells over it! Here's good luck to you, Bob! May you soon have as many thousands as you have now hundreds a year, health to enjoy your fortune, and a pretty wife to--O, that reminds me!' he broke off suddenly. 'I've seen your young woman.''My young woman? repeated Robert, in amazement. 'Do you mean Effie?''Effie--no!' was the scornful reply. 'You told me you

would have nothing to do with her. I mean the vision of loveliness you told me you encountered one day in North-street.'' Do you really mean that, Alf? You are not jesting now?''Jest! What should I jest about?' asked his cousin. 'Really, she is a very sweet parcel of goods, Master Bob.''I wish, Alf, you would not--''Wish I would not what? Wish I would not tell who she is, where she lives, or her name?''You know nothing about her.''Don't I? That's all you know about me. I could impart some pieces of information you do not care to be told--give you her name; where she lives, which wouldn't interest you, of course; who she is, and the errand that brought her into North-street--but I will not. As you have chosen to be nasty to me, Master Bob, I will be nasty to you.''But, Alf, I was ever nasty to you.''O, yes, you were; and your conscience tells you you were.''Should you like to be in Pousnetts' house?''No; not at all.''Well, then, I was not nasty to you.''Meaning that you want to know all about the young woman.''Meaning nothing; though I thought her the most beautiful creature I ever saw in all my life.''Humph!' said Mr. Mostin dubiously. 'However, she is not amiss. I have met with worse-looking girls. She is natural and unaffected and pleasant in her manners; in which last respect, Robert, she differs from you. She will be twenty-one in May; she is very poor, and she lives with her mamma at Old Ford.''It the name of Heaven, Alf, how did you find out all this?''By using the brains Heaven gave me, Mr. McCullagh,' was the sedate reply.'But how did you use them? By what accident were you able to ascertain--''It was not by an accident at all. An opportunity to learn something about the young lady came in my way, and I availed myself of it; why, I am sure I cannot tell, unless with a vague idea of pleasing you.''How good you always are to me, Alf!'Mr. Mostin did not see fit to take any notice of this gush of feeling, so Robert proceeded diplomatically,'You seem to have spoken to Miss--What is her name?'His cousin burst out laughing.'You don't trap me that way, Bob,' he said. 'I will tell you all I know about her out of my own free will, but I am too old a bird to be caught unaware, specially by a fledgling like you. The young lady is a Miss Lilands; Christian name Jane; her mamma calls your fair, Janey. Her papa was an admiral, who, when he died, left his widow and only child but scantily provided for.''Go on,' entreated Robert.'Go on!' repeated Mr. Mostin. 'I am going on as fast as I can. Are you too impatient to let a fellow draw his breath? Besides, there is very little more to tell. They come from some place in the North, and are only living in London till Mrs. Lilands has won a great lawsuit old Napier is fighting for her.''But how did you contrive to hear all this? How were you able to get introduced to them? I know you can always manage to do almost impossible things, but it does seem to me most extraordinary that you should become in a moment, as one may say, hand and glove with total strangers.''And pray who said I was hand and glove with them?' retorted Mr. Mostin. 'I am very sure I never did.''You have spoken to them; you know the ins and outs of their affairs.''Of course I have spoken to them, and of course I know something of their affairs; just as you might have done, if you had ever thought of getting off that high horse you are so fond of riding, and talking to poor devils who are forced to go afoot. There is a young fellow in Napier's office who seems to get whatever kicks may be going in that establishment. He and I pass the time of day sometimes, and occasionally I have given him an order for the theatre. Well, it so chanced that last Monday I saw your young woman coming out of Napier's, and got a good look at her. She is really not amiss. I had not time then to run her to earth; besides which I knew I could hear all about who she was, and the rest of it, from my friend. The same evening I ran against him just as he was locking up. "Are you going down North-street?" I asked. "No," he said, with a naughty expression old Napier would have had many remarks to make concerning had he heard it. "I am going up

North-street, and across the square, and along Worship-street, and so to that blank blanked Old Ford." "I'll go with you as far as Worship-street," I remarked. "Have a cigar?" So he had a cigar, and lit it--in fact, we both lit up; and when he began puffing in good earnest, I remarked carelessly, "I saw a neat thing in petticoats leave your office to-day. Who is she?" "What sort of a thing?" he asked. "We have several things in petticoats, worse luck!" "Don't you like the ladies?" I suggested. "No, I can't bear them in business." This was exactly what that young Goth said. "Old or young, one woman has given me more trouble than twenty men." I saw it was no use going on in this way, so I went straight to the point. "The woman I refer to is young, and I may say attractive. She wears a sweetly becoming black-straw bonnet, a black-silk dress, and a black velvet mantle, both rather shabby. She is winsome-looking, she has brown hair, and a colour in her cheeks like delicate rose-leaves." "And she is the plague of our lives," interrupted Barnes--that is the name of the legal misogynist. "At least," he added, " her mother is. It is all on her account I have now to trail off to Old Ford, instead of going to my uncle's, where there is the jolliest party imaginable."''Well?' asked Mr. McCullagh junior.'Well, can't you guess the rest?''You went with this young man, I suppose--''Wrong, my son. I went in his place. I said, "I will take the deed, letter, parcel, or message. One way is as good to me as another, for am not bidden to any party; indeed, the way to Old Ford is better than any other." He hummed and hawed just a little, for old Napier is a hard old nail; but he knew me, and he wanted to go to his uncle's, and he did not want to go to Old Ford.''At all events, you went to Old Ford.''How impatient you are!' laughed Alf Mostin. 'But you are right--I went to Old Ford. I generally take a stroll somewhere at night, and Old Ford and your young woman suggested two objects to my consideration. Good Heavens, what a hunt I had to find Acacia Cottage! However, at last, about half-past eight o' th' clock, I did find it; a poor little place, with a garden in front surrounded by palings, and the gate locked; no bell, no means of attracting attention.''What did you do?' asked Robert, who certainly, in such case, would have retraced his steps.'I got over the paling and knocked. The door was answered on the chain by the very smallest servant I ever saw in a cap and apron; and at the same moment I heard a shrill voice exclaim from the parlour, "You have forgotten to lock that padlock again, Ruth." In a breath Ruth answered she had not, and asked me, with a scared face, what I pleased to want. I said I had a letter from Mr. Napier. Having received which message, the small damsel shut the door in my face and retired. After a short pause she returned, and asked me for the letter. I declined to deliver it, except to Mrs. Lilands. The child closed the door again, and retired once more. After a still longer pause, I heard a different footfall across the hall, the chain was removed, the door opened quite wide; candle in hand, your fair scrutinised me doubtfully. " Are you from Mr. Napier?" she asked. "I have a letter from him," I said, removing my hat. "Miss Lilands, I presume." "Yes," she answered; "pray come in."'It is a very poor house they occupy, Bob, very poorly furnished; and yet the moment I crossed the threshold I felt I had fallen amongst gentlefolk. She is simply charming. For aught she knew, I might have been the least-considered clerk in Napier's, yet her manner was perfection. "I am so sorry you should have been kept waiting," she said. " Mamma, this gentleman has come from Mr. Napier; you need not have been uneasy." "But what a time of night!" grumbled the old lady. You won't find her a charming mother-in-law, Bob.''I wish you would not, Alf--''O, indeed! After taking all that trouble on your behalf!'And Mr. Alf Mostin mixed for himself again, and after doing so looked straight into the fire.'I wish you would go on with your narrative, Alf,' said Robert, after a pause.'And a few minutes ago you wished I would not,' answered his cousin. 'If I go on with it,' he added,' I shall have to say things you won't like. They are people not in our groove. You know I hold with Stephenson that all men are alike; or, at all events, many men might be alike if they pleased. But the same doctrine won't wash with women. Now these women--the one disagreeable, and the other agreeable-are quite unlike anything in our set.''Speak for yourself,' thought Mr. Robert McCullagh, mindful of Portman-square; but he wisely refrained from speech.'They are very poor; but the mother, at any rate, is as

proud as Lucifer, and I should say she would as soon think of her daughter marrying a sweep as either of us.''Either of us!' once again considered his cousin scornfully.'From what Mrs. Lilands said,' went on Mr. Mostin, 'I gather that if they win their case--and I do not think old Napier would have taken it up had the chances of success not been very good indeed-missy will be an heiress; and whether she is poor or rich, I should not like to ask Mrs. Lilands for her hand. I thought about it all sitting in that little room, while the mamma meandered on concerning the lawsuit, and said how slow Mr. Napier was, and how wearisome she found it having to do with a man who wanted facts repeated to him over and over and over again. "He seems to me to have no grasp of intellect," she observed at last, and then paused for a reply. "I have never spoken to Mr. Napier in my life," I answered. "What!" she exclaimed, "and you in his employment?" "O, no," I said; "I am not in his employment, although I happen to bring a letter from him." "Not one of his clerks?" with increasing amazement. You know my principle, Bob, that I make it a point of conscience never to tell a lie when truth will serve the purpose; so I was at some trouble to explain I had offices in the same house, and as it was difficult for Mr. Napier's clerk to deliver the letter that evening, I had undertaken the duty of doing so. "I shall certainly write to Mr. Napier on the subject," said the old lady indignantly. "O mamma," cried her daughter, "when this gentleman has been so very kind as to take the trouble of coming all this way?" I thanked Miss Lilands only by a look, for I wanted to answer her stern parent without delay. "I do not think you will, ma'am," I said: "in the first place, because I am sure it would be but a poor satisfaction to get a clerk into trouble; and in the next, I have brought the package as quickly and safely as any one could. The young man to whose care it was intrusted wanted to go to a party at his uncle's, which would have been impossible had I not offered to be his deputy." "It was exceedingly good of you, I am sure," cried the young lady; but Mrs. Lilands murmured a remark to the effect that "business was business." "And pleasure is pleasure," I ventured to add, at which obvious truism her daughter laughed pleasantly. "I assure you the clerk in question is not so overburdened with invitations, he can afford to decline the few which do come in his way," I went on. "So far as I can see, Mr. Napier keeps the noses of his employees pretty well to the grindstone."''What a thing to say!' observed Robert, shocked.'She did not seem to mind. She appears to me to care for nothing except what concerns the great suit. She said she did desire to injure any one in a dependent position, and that she would overlook the fault of which she still considered the young man had been guilty. "An important letter," she remarked, "ought to be delivered by an accredited agent. Mr. Napier also wishes a reply to be sent by his messenger. It is really very awkward." I told her I would take her reply safely, whether verbal or written. "But I shall have to detain you while I write," she said; and I replied, "Though, as a rule, I regretted my time was not valuable, I felt happy at last to be able to state the fact." "Can I answer Mr. Napier's letter for you, mamma?" asked her daughter, seeing her mother took not the smallest notice of my civil speech. "No, I must write myself;" and, having made this reply, she rose and left the room.''And did Miss Lilands remain with you?''Miss Lilands remained with me. She said apologetically her mamma was so anxious about the lawsuit, she sometimes seemed a little irritable; but it was only manner. I declared I was quite sure of that. When one has to tell a fib, it is best to tell it heartily. "And it is trying," went on the girl wearily. "I often wish poor mamma had never thought it her duty to go to law. Mr. Napier does seem so slow." "Lawyers are proverbially slow," I answered; and then I ventured to ask if the stake at issue were large. "It seems large to us," she said--"forty or fifty thousand pounds, I believe. I suppose," she added wistfully, "Mr. Napier is very clever?" "I suppose so," I agreed. "At any rate, I have always heard him spoken of as very safe." "What do you mean by safe?" she asked. "That he is not speculative; that he won't go into a thing he thinks doubtful." "Then he must be very sure of this." "There can be little doubt of that," I replied.'We did not talk any more about Mr. Napier or the lawsuit; indeed, we had not long to talk on any subject; for Mrs. Lilands shortly afterwards appeared, bearing an envelope, which she delivered to me with great empressement. "I have no resource, sir, save to give you this trouble," she said. "I can only hope the next time Mr. Napier intrusts a message to his clerk, the young man may see fit to deliver it in person." I did not take any notice of this back-handed blow at what she evidently considered my officiousness, but assured her it had

given me great pleasure to be of the slightest service; and added, "I only wish it might fall to my lot to bring you intelligence of the successful termination of your suit." "Thank you," she said stiffly; "but when that event happens, I should imagine Mr. Napier would bring me intelligence of it himself." Having dealt me which final slap in the face, she called Ruth to open the door and bowed me out with a look that implied, "I shall be very glad to see the last of you." Miss Lilands' smile, however, comforted me. Without the memory of it, I should have felt very small indeed as I trudged back to the City.''How I wish I had a little of your impudence!' said Robert reflectively, after a moment's silence.Mr. Mostin looked at him with a comical expression, but made no reply. He had helped his cousin to mount the ladder, and already he was experiencing the fate of those who stay below.CHAPTER XIII.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.ALL in the dull damp weather which preceded the green Christmas of that dreary winter, Mr. Pousnett, as unmoved by atmospheric influences as he seemed indifferent to business crises, picked his way, one dark afternoon, over the muddy crossings, and paced along the dirty pavements, which brought him, as they had previously brought Robert McCullagh the younger, to Basinghall-street.He did not, though threading the City lanes and alleys, as familiar to him almost as they were to Alfred Mostin, look like one who spent most part of every day within a few minutes' walk of the Exchange. There was that in his carriage, his appearance, his dress, which separated him in some indescribable yet subtle manner from the bulk of those who rushed and pushed and jostled each other upon the very pavements he trod. He had never posed for a City Father. He had always fought shy of the honours Cockaigne can and does confer upon favourite and deserving children. In his heart of hearts Mr. Pousnett, if such heresy may be whispered, despised the aldermanic gown and the Lord Mayor's robe.There were those who--having, misled by the merchant's genial manners, ventured upon a certain degree of easy familiarity much in favour round and about Capel-court and its environs, found themselves and their advances repulsed with the coolest and civilest contempt--declared that 'Pousnett was as proud as Lucifer,' generally adding a desire to know, addressed to no one in particular, 'what he had to be proud of.'Following his erect figure, his firm yet easy walk, the manner in which he made all comers give place to him, simply by drawing away from instead of hustling them, any dispassionate observer must have confessed that, even physically, Mr. Pousnett had cause for standing well in his own esteem. Every yard or so he was greeted by some one who understood his greatness; and the mode in which he lifted his umbrella to his hat in acknowledgement of such marks of respect reminded

one irresistibly of an officer answering the salutes of his privates. Mr. Pousnett regarded a good many worthy citizens, who stood pretty high in their own conceit, as mere rank-and-file in his serviceable army.With the leisurely step, that yet made such good progress, which had brought him from Cornhill to Basinghall-street, he turned out of the latter thoroughfare into the unnamed court where Mr. McCullagh resided. Just far a second, as he debouched into the open space mentioned in an early chapter of this story, he paused and looked around with the natural curiosity of a man of leisure, who for the first time finds himself in a strange locality in a familiar neighbourhood. In the City there are still nooks and crannies upon which even a man accustomed to the pavements within the walls all his life may light unexpectedly; and though Mr. Pousnett knew the ins and outs of London better than most people, it so happened he had never chanced before to visit the place where Mr. McCullagh resided, and which, indeed, was only distinguished in the Directory by a. certain number in Basinghall-street.As he glanced about the still, quiet court, where the roar of traffic sounded but as the wash of waves upon some sandy coast, his eyes chanced to perceive the face of a girl peeping from an upper window. When she saw she was noticed, she instantly withdrew from observation. Mr. Pousnett smiled. 'I think,' he considered, 'my new partner told me he had no sister.' Then he went straight across to the house where any one could from afar behold Mr. McCullagh's good name set out in white letters on a black board. Crossing the threshold he stood for a moment uncertain; there was a door to his right, another to his left, and a grand old staircase in front. He was admiring the latter, when a boy came into the hall. He had his hand on the right-hand door, when, perceiving the stranger, he paused.'What's yeer wull?' he asked; and then Mr. Pousnett knew he was in the presence of some one attached to the establishment.'Can I see Mr. McCullagh?' he asked presently.'Ay, can you,' the lad replied, looking with national suspicion upon the agreeable Southerner. 'He'll be in the counting-house. Will I say who it is that wants him?''There is no necessity,' answered Mr. Pousnett, and, adroitly frustrating the youth's intention of rushing before him, he walked straight into the office.At the farther end--at the extreme end, indeed, of the warehouse--beyond the desks and the partitions, stood Mr. McCullagh, 'up till his neck,' as he himself would have said, 'in work.'Book in hand and pencil at work, he was engaged in 'figuring out' various facts which were at intervals shrieked up to him from below, whilst he in turn screamed down into the basement:'What are ye thinking of, mixing the boxes that gait?''For the Lord's sake, mind what ye're about with that marmalade!''There! I was confident ye'd o'erlook the mutton hams!''Man, man, ye've nae mair sense nor a three-year-old infant!''Didn't I tell ye as plain as I could speak to send up that cask of sweeties before ye took another job in hand?''I am afraid I come at an inopportune time,' observed Mr. Pousnett, who, though he could have stood listening to these proceedings with interest for a considerable period, thought it advisable to announce his presence. 'Shall I call another day? You remember me, don't you? My name is Pousnett.''Bless and save us!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh, taking the hand offered, and shaking it in an access of surprise and confusion. 'If I had not clean forgot ye! I had never seen ye in a hat before, ye understand, and that does make a wonderful differ.''It does,' agreed Mr. Pousnett, who was too well bred to point his acquiescence with a look towards Mr. McCullagh's headgear, an old Scotch cap of the species now known in England as Tam O'Shanter, stiff with grease, and powdered with oatmeal, which added at least ten years to Mr. McCullagh's apparent age, and deducted about a hundred per cent from the respectability and prosperity of his appearance.'I will come in again some other time,' repeated Mr. Pousnett.'Deed will ye no,' said Mr. McCullagh, with a heartiness which was not quite real. 'I've just upon finished checking some goods that are bound to be got off to-day, and am quite at your disposal. Have ye anything to say to me in private?''Well, no,' answered Mr. Pousnett, looking round the warehouse and wondering as he spoke where the private sanctum might be to which Mr. McCullagh's speech seemed indirectly to point. 'I called to speak to you about two or three little matters, but they are not of a private nature-not at all.''Maybe ye wouldn't mind stepping across to the other room,' suggested Mr. McCullagh. 'This place is aye thrang, and folk are given to interrupt me when they see me about.''I hope you do not include me amongst the number,' said Mr. Pousnett, 'though I am afraid I did interrupt you unwarrantably just now.''It would be strange if I could not make a minute for you, Mr. Mr. Pousnett,' answered Mr. McCullagh, pronouncing the name loud enough to be heard distinctly at some of the desks, 'considering the honour ye have put upon me and my family.''The honor is mine, Mr. McCullagh,' replied Mr. Pousnett, with that proud bow which apes humility.'It's very good of ye to say as much,' returned Mr. McCullagh, which interchange of diplomatic phrases brought them into the hall.There for a moment Mr. McCullagh hesitated. The impulse was strong upon him to ask his visitor up-stairs, and show him more of the glories of the old house, concerning the perfections of which Mr. Pousnett commenced to wax eloquent.But it had always been his practice to mistrust impulse, to believe it was merely a wild impish device of the Evil One to lead men to perdition. His 'sober senses' were, Mr. McCullagh felt, the best guides always to follow.'When a man is a bit uplifted, he is apt to forget himself,' was one of his truisms; and no doubt in this idea, as in most those he took to his bosom and cherished, Mr McCullagh was right.'Yes,' he said, in answer to Mr. Pousnett, when, after that temporary hesitation, he flung open the door of the room which Robert hated as he detested no other apartment in the house; 'it's an honest building, with, as you say, a fine staircase, better than yours in Portman-square. No offence, I hope.''Offence!' repeated Mr. Pousnett. 'I only wish to Heaven any house I lived in could boast anything like it.''Won't ye sit down?' asked Mr. McCullagh, to whom at that moment no other observation occurred.'Thank you, Mr. McCullagh, I will,' answered Mr. Pousnett. 'I have come round this afternoon,' he went on, plunging in mnedias res, 'because I think we may be able to do some business together.''Ay?' said Mr. McCullagh interrogatively, and placing himself on guard at once.'We want a lot of things in your line, and if you can meet me in price, of course I would rather buy of you than from any one else.''I am sure I am much beholden to ye,' answered Mr. McCullagh.'Can you oblige me with a price-list?' inquired Mr. Pousnett.'Certainly, certainly;' and the required document was produced with due expedition from a drawer in the table beside which the Scotch merchant sat.For a couple of minutes there was silence, broken only by the noise made by Mr. Pousnett's pencil as he marked various items on the paper; then, pushing the list over to Mr. McCullagh, he said,'When can you have those things ready for shipment?'Mr. McCullagh looked at the articles and the weights pencilled on the margin, ere, glancing up, he observed,'It's a big order.''Do you think so?' returned Mr. Pousnett. 'I trust to send you a better one ere long. When can you deliver it?''The day after to-morrow. Will that be soon enough?''It must be if you cannot send it to-morrow.''I can't do that.''Well, let us say the day after. I will send you marks and shipping-note in the morning.''Thank you,' said Mr.McCullagh, looking down at the paper once more. 'Ye know my terms, I suppose?' he added next instant.'The usual terms, I conclude,' answered Mr. Pousnett easily.'That depends on what ye call usual,' was the reply.'You have me there,' laughed Mr. Pousnett; ' for, trading with all sorts of people, I find we deal on all sorts of terms. Let us, however, say the best for the seller--a month, two and a half off.''That's not the way I conduct my business,' answered Mr. McCullagh.'What is your way, then?' asked Mr. Pousnett.'Cash,' was the solemn answer.'Cash--when?''Before delivery.''Do you get anybody to buy from you?''Whiles two or three.'Mr. Pousnett lay back in his chair, and laughed heartily;

and Mr. McCullagh sat looking at him and wondering what on earth he could find so amusing.'You delight me, Mr. McCullagh,' he said, when he recovered his composure. 'Why, if we were to attempt to do business on the same terms we might put up our shutters within six months.''D'ye think so?''I am sure so. Credit is the very life of trade.''That may be, but I doubt it,' said Mr. McCullagh slowly. 'At any rate, cash is my rule, and I see no reason why I should depart from it.''Nor do I, since at present you have almost a monopoly of the Scotch trade in your hands. If, however-or, perhaps, I should rather say, when-some opponent comes into the market, you will perhaps see reason to alter your tactics.''It's no very likely that I shall,' retorted Mr. McCullagh, with a heightened colour, which told the shot had gone home. 'I have always maintained it's aye wiser to cry over your goods, nor after them.''If you can't get rid of your good, it comes to pretty much the same thing, I should imagine,' said Mr. Pousnett equably. 'However, we need not trouble ourselves with abstract questions. As you won't even trust me,' he added jocularly, 'let me have invoice in the morning, and I will send a cheque with the shipping note.'If the great man expected Mr. McCullagh would say nay to this proposition, he was deceived. Some 'canny Scotch body' he was willing enough, as a rule, to trust, or a small  tradesman trying to make an honest penny in a cautious way; but he had no faith in large firms, dealing in tens and hundreds of thousands.'They're here to-day and there to-morrow,' he was wont to observe; 'and mostly before they do go, every farthing of capital has been spent; while, as for assets, they generally, after the first statement, assume the form of bad debts.'If Rothschilds had offered Mr. McCullagh a six months' bill, he would have told them civilly he would not care to put himself under the obligation of asking his bankers to discount it. 'I have never needed a favour from them yet,' he would have explained, 'and I just feel I shouldna' like to begin now.'For which reasons, and also perhaps, as he often said, he 'didna care to trust too many eggs in one basket,' Mr. McCul-

lagh implied he would accept the proffered cheque, and have the goods ready at the time specified.'So that is done with,' remarked Mr. Pousnett, with the relieved sigh of a man who wished it to be understood he detested nothing so much as the dry details of any commercial transaction. 'Business first, pleasure to follow. On New Year's-eve, Mr. McCullagh, my wife means to give a little party, and she has commissioned me to ask you if you will do her so much honour as to join her guests.''She's verra good,' said Mr. McCullagh, who really felt amazed, both at the promise of cash for such a quantity of goods, and the certainty of this most unlooked-for invitation.'We shall dine at seven,' proceeded Mr. Pousnett, 'and I should esteem your coming up at that hour and taking share of whatever may be going as a favour. We are asking our friends to come early, as we propose to have only one dance after the clock strikes twelve.''I take it very kindly, both of you and Mrs. Pousnett,' said Mr. McCullagh, perplexed.'The kindness is all on your side,' answered Mr. Pousnett.'I'm no sure that I'm just fit to go among a lot of young people,' observed Mr. McCullagh modestly. 'I've stayed so long in my hole, in a manner of speaking, that it seems strange to me even to put my head out.''Nonsense,' retorted Mr. Pousnett. 'You seem to me to enjoy society far more than your son.''You scarcely saw him to advantage that evening,' Mr. McCullagh replied. 'He was just as uneasy as a hen on a hot griddle.''I don't know what a griddle may be,' said Mr. Pousnett;'but now you speak of the matter I think it likely he was anxious. You were surprised, I suppose, to hear we had taken him into partnership after all.''I can't say that I was exactly. I always told Robert if you wanted him you would not stand out about the money.''You were quite right there,' returned Mr. Pousnett, with a smile.'He did not think I was right at the time,' went on Mr. McCullagh, unsuspicious of the double meaning underlying his visitor's words.'Young people often despise the wisdom of their elders,' a general proposition which committed the speaker to nothing.'Ye're no far out,' agreed Mr. McCullagh, accepting the statement as having particular reference to his son. 'Robert thinks he could buy and sell me too.''He thinks wrong then,' replied Mr. Pousnett shortly.'Ye'll have bidden him, I suppose to set-out ye were speaking of?''No, I have not,' was the unexpected answer; 'and, what is more, I am not going to ask him. Do not look so astonished, Mr. McCullagh. You will soon understand the way and wherefore of my seeming inhospitality, for I am going to be quite frank with you. I have daughters, fairly good looking, and, I think I may say without vanity, possessed of pleasant manners.''Indeed ye may do that,' said Mr. McCullagh, as the speaker paused. 'Handsomer or more agreeable young ladies it would be hard to find.''Thank you. Well, your son is still a young man, and he appears younger than his actual age; he is not destitute of personal attractions, and-Need I explain my meaning further, Mr. McCullagh?''Weel, no. I understand pretty accurately. Ye're afraid one of your girls might take a notion of him.'Mr. Pousnett nodded. He could not have spoken at that moment, great as was the amount of gravity at his command, without breaking into another peal of merriment.'I won't say ye're wrong,' went on Mr. McCullagh. 'It's aye best to be on the safe side. There's no telling what young folks will do; and if it's a thing ye wouldn't like-''I should not like it,' interposed Mr. Pousnett, seeing his
opportunity. 'I have quite other views for my daughters, and I intend
to have no entanglements or complications I can avoid. That is why I
do not mean to ask your son to my house. You see, Mr. McCullagh,'
added the great merchant lightly, 'the confidence I play in you.''You consider me a horse of another colour.''Of quite another color,' said Mr. Pousnett.There are some persons with whom it is dangerous to indulge in
even the politest joke, and Mr.McCullagh chanced to be one of
them.'Then if I understand you aright,' he remarked facetiously, 'when
I propose myself to you for a son-in-law ye'll make no objection.'Had an earl ventured a similar observation in a similar

manner, Mr. Pousnett's pride would have risen in arms; and it was with much ado he checked an angry retort. Perhaps, however, the sight of Mr. McCullagh as he sat peering across the table, and the absurdity of the position, did more to restore him to good temper than any merely prudential consideration.The whole thing was irresistible. When he described the scene afterwards to his wife, she laughed till she cried.'The dear old creature!' she exclaimed. 'And what answer did you make, Herrion?''I said, "I thought that was a contingency it scarcely seemed necessary at present to contemplate."'Which happened to be, indeed, word for word, Mr. Pousnett's reply.'But supposing I did take such a notion into my head,' persisted Mr. McCullagh, whose ideas of 'wut' were of the crudest description.'In such a case,' answered Mr. Pousnett, 'I should refer you to my daughter.''That's no so bad,' said Mr. McCullagh, with his short dry chuckle; 'but ye may make your mind easy, Mr. Pousnett. I'm thinking the woman has yet to be born who could beguile me into the holy estate of matrimony a second time.''You found once enough,' conjectured Mr. Pousnett, answering rather the tone of Mr. McCullagh's words than the remark itself.'I did; and yet, upon my conscience, I don't know to this day whether the fault was hers or mine.''I am certain it was not yours,' said Mr. Pousnett politely.'Well, in one way perhaps not; for I could not change my nature, and that was about the only thing could have us run smoothly in harness.''Your son resembles his mother, I suppose?''He favours her,' said Mr. McCullagh shortly; and there was that in his voice which told Mr. Pousnett the conversation had better be changed.In the best of all ways he effected the desired diversion by rising to go.'You will receive a card from  my wife,' Mr. Pousnett remarked ere he went; 'and I shall tell her she may hope.'With which diplomatic speech the great man departed, leaving Mr. McCullagh more curious, more puzzled, and more totally at sea than he had ever felt before in the whole course of his life.CHAPTER XIV.
EFFIE ASKS A QUESTION.AFTER a considerable amount of what he, in his rich and expressive idiom, called 'swithering,' Mr. McCullagh finally made up his mind that he would grace Mrs. Pousnett's reception with his presence.'Unless I see more of that man I shall never be able to make head nor tail of him,' he considered, and, making thus both a virtue and a necessity of his own inclinations, he wrote the 'good lady' a formal epistle, intimating that, if in the mean time all went well, he hoped to have the good fortune to meet her in good health on the evening of the thirty-first. By the same post he despatched a note to Mr. Pousnett, thanking him for the hearty manner in which he had renewed his invitation to dinner, and signifying that about seven P.M. on the day named he might be expected to turn up in Portman-square. Then, but not till then, he one afternoon took Mrs. Pousnett's card out of its envelope, and saying carelessly, 'That's the way the big people Robert's got among ask their friends to take a cup of tea with them,' placed it in a conspicuous position on the mantel shelf.He had not thought it well to apprise Miss Nicol of the advent on this second mark of favour till he should have decided whether he meant to go or to stay away. Ever since he had cautiously broken the news that Robert was indeed a partner in the great house, he had noticed what he mentally termed a 'girning,' on the part of Miss Nicol and a drooping depression in the fair Effie.The former lost no opportunity of 'girding' at the 'lad's shortcomings,' while Effie looked out of window for his long-deferred appearance with such pallid cheeks and red eyes that Mr. McCullagh was fain to cheer her with the honoured old proverb which assures disappointed maidens and jilted swains there are as 'good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.''Mind your seam,' he said, recalling the words he had

heard addressed to his sisters when they were 'wee tow-headed lassies,' 'and hold yourself up; there's money bid for ye.' Hearing which facetious piece of consolation Effie was wont to wrench herself somewhat ungraciously out of Mr. McCullagh's grasp, and retreat to her own room, where she would have stayed altogether in those days when Robert came not near, if Miss Nicol would only have 'let her be.''He'll be far too grand to come near us now, I'm thinking,' was Miss Nicol's first remark when she heard from the proud father of the 'rise' his son had got in the world.'He's gone to Holland,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'but I daresay when he returns he may give us a sight of himself now and again. After all, Janet, it is not Robert's fault his employer should have taken such a liking to him. I'm sure, to hear ye, anybody might think the boy had committed some sin.'It was because of this little failing of jealousy on the part of his kinswoman (a failing circumstances had not hitherto brought into prominence), that Mr. McCullagh decided to avoid all comment and controversy on the subject of Mrs. Pousnett's invitation till the die was cast, and he could simply say, 'I am going.'In silence Miss Nicol read the card; in silence she made room for Effie also to read it.'They must be very grand folk,' said the latter, with the suspicion of tears in her voice. 'If ye had not told me,' she added, turning to her benefactor, 'I'm sure I never would have guessed what it all meant.''And I'm sure I don't know what all of it means now,' capped Miss Nicol. 'It is the strangest thing I ever saw: no compliments, no asking the favour of your company. Well, it's some of the new fashions, I suppose. And what does R.S.V.P. stand for? It is something like that they put on the Roman Catholic tombstones, isn't it?''Come, Effie, now's the time to air your French,' cried Mr. McCullagh. 'Construe, construe, like a good girl.''I know nothing about it,' answered Effie pettishly.What does it mean?' asked Miss Nicol, discreetly anxious to avert a storm.'Send a reply, if you please,' explained Mr. McCullagh, who had been at some trouble to obtain his information in an indirect way.'It is a pity she couldn't have said that in English.''I make small doubt she could if she had been so minded.'' And ye're going to send an answer?''O, I've done that! Mr. Pousnett came here himself, and was so terrible pressing I could not but say I would make one fool among many.''Ye'll be getting quite conceited now such great people are running after ye.''I may. When I feel the symptoms coming on, I'll tell ye, Janet.''And I suppose Robert is going, too?''He is not going with me, at any rate,' answered Mr. McCullagh, too wise and loyal to 'let on,' as he would have phrased it, that his son was left out in the cold. 'He is still in Holland, as I am given to understand: and now he is one of them he'll see enough of the Pousnetts, I'll go bail.''He'll, maybe, be marrying one of the young ladies ye said played so well,' hazarded Miss Nicol, with a sly glance toward Effie.'There is nothing impossible; but I don't think that is likely,' observed Mr. McCullagh, in a manner which did not encourage Miss Nicol to continue the conversation in the same strain.'And so ye really are going out to a dance,' she said, after a moment's pause, with a sort of elephantine playfulness.'Ay, and to dinner first,' answered Mr. McCullagh, glad to get this additional explanation over.'They seem to have taken a wonderful fancy to ye,' remarked Miss Nicol dubiously.'And why wouldn't they?' returned her relative, in a tone of defiance. 'Is there anything about me that should prevent man or woman taking a fancy to me?''No, no; ye misinterpret me altogether,' said Miss Nicol hurriedly; 'only it appears sudden, that's all.''It's not so sudden as the change in you, Janet,' retorted Mr. McCullagh. 'There was a time when apparently I could do nothing wrong in your esteem; now it would seem there is not a single thing I can do right, even to accepting an invite from those who have stood friends to my son, and are willing to be friendly to  me.''Some day ye may know who are your true friends,' answered the housekeeper sententiously.'Some day, Janet, all things will be revealed; but till then we must just do the best we can with the light at our disposal,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'And now, to put matters upon a reasonable footing, I may tell ye, once for all, I am not

going to be told by anybody living under my roof and eating my bread who I am to know, or who I am not to know; where I am to go, or where I am not to go; who I am to call my friends, and who I am to consider my enemies. You have been taking a wee too much on yourself of late, Mistress Nicol, and it is best we understood one another soon. We must, in any event, do that syne.'Mistress Nicol, as he called her--Miss Nicol, who once had hoped to change that patronymic for the lengthier, if less euphonious, name of McCullagh--who, indeed, still entertained a lingering expectation that some day, any day, her kinsman might say, 'Janet, wull ye be my wife?'--for reply only took out her handkerchief and applied it to her eyes, to conceal perhaps the most genuine tears of rage ever shed by a 'douce' Scotchwoman.Her emotion might have moved many a one of the male sex; but Mr. McCullagh had served an apprenticeship to female tactics, and would not have been much affected even by a fit of hysterics.I do not see what call ye have to greet, Janet,' he said, in his hardest and most unsympathetic Doric. 'If it was Effie, now, I could understand it better, though, as I told her no later nor yester-e'en, it's no Robert's fault he couldna take a fancy to her; and I am sure I'm sorry enough he couldn't. All the fretting in the world won't snare a man's heart, though.''I'm very sure I want none of his heart,' exclaimed Effie, in an access of indignation. 'I take it hard of ye, uncle, to make so little of me as to conceit such a thing.''It's no making little of ye to conceit ye might have taken a liking to my son,' retorted Mr. McCullagh.'Ay, but it is,' retorted Effie, 'if he never thought of me.''I'm thinking ye've the best of it, my lass,' returned Mr. McCullagh, who was just, if not chivalric. 'Ye're quite right; and I'm fain to ask your pardon for what I said just now. I'm real sorry you and Robert couldn't make a match of it. I'd have liked it well enough, though ye haven't a halfpenny-piece, or the chance of one.''There's no need to mind me I have no money,' expostulated Effie, who indeed looked as unlike a young woman possessed of a 'great fortune' as a young woman well could.'If he'd had a mind for ye, I'd have made that right, though,' explained Mr. McCullagh blandly. 'But there's no use talking about that now.''If I'd been consulted,' interposed Miss Nicol, whose tears were now dry, 'there would have been no use at any time. I would rather see my brother's child in her coffin than wife to a man who hasn't a though beyond his genteel figure and his well-fitting clothes.''Would ye now!' said Mr. McCullagh, after the manner of interjection.'I wish we wouldn'y quarrel concerning Robert over me,' suggested Effie, who at that moment was the coolest of the party. 'I do assure ye both I am not troubling my head about him.''And I am very certain I am not,' exclaimed Miss Nicol, with a gasping sob.'And ye may both take your oath, I am not now,' finished Mr. McCullagh. 'The lad has struck out a course for himself, and a fine course it is. I never thought any son of mine, and more especially the son least resembling myself, would do so well as Robert has done. I'm thinking none of us knew what was in that boy. I take shame to myself whiles for thinking his brothers would beat him in the race.''The race isn't over yet, mind that,' said Miss Nicol, with a certain Satanic exultation.'God forgive me, Janet, if I wrong ye; but I think ye'd be glad if Robert came a cropper,' observed Mr. McCullagh, wisely avoiding the discussion Miss Nicol's speech invited.'O, I've no ill-will to Robert, I'm sure,' she answered. 'He's well enough behaved, and fair spoken into the bargain. The worst fault I've to find with him is, he has more outside his head than he'll ever have in.'He's got a fine shock of curly black hair, if that's what ye mean,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'and maybe, if we'd had curly black hair, we might have been a thought proud of it, too.'Robert as partner in Pousnetts' ad Robert as manager were two quite distinct personages. Mr. McCullagh now recalled the facts that, 'first or last,' his eldest born had never so to speak, cost him a penny; that he had, in appearance and manners, been a credit to the house of McCullagh; and that perhaps, upon the whole, he had been hardly done by. Miss Nicol's antagonistic remarks did more to establish Robert in his father's good books than any amount of praise could have effected.'I'm of the opinion,' said Miss Nicol, 'that we'll all of us have to be content with the hair the Almighty send us.'I think He almost forgot you and me, Janet,' remarked

Mr. McCullagh, with an awful pleasantry. 'We've neither of us much more covering to our heads nor Effie, and she doesn't own enough to keep out a small shower of summer rain.'Having delivered himself of which genial remark, Mr. McCullagh left the room, and sought his sanctuary on the ground-floor.While he was still a struggling man, doing, in his early days, a small business, that apartment had been the common sitting-room for himself and family. After his wife's death, however, he changed the arrangement of the house, dividing the chamber in twain, and taking one half for a private office, and devoting the other to sleep. Here he had for years been wont to retire when he got tired of his womenfolk or wished to work out any problem in arithmetic which required the whole devotion of his mind. Latterly he had shut himself in this quiet haven more frequently than of yore, for he found many questions to think out in solitude; and it was, besides, an undeniable fact that, since she heard of the greatness thrust on Robert, Miss Nicol 'was not near so pleasant as she might be.'She never missed an opportunity of giving the young man's vanity what Mr. McCullagh styled a 'side-wipe;' and worse than all, she did not hesitate 'whiles' to indulge in a 'nasty sneer' regarding her patron himself.Mr. McCullagh reviewed Miss Nicol, and came to the conclusion 'he wasna just satisfied' with that lady. She was 'taking on her' in a way he did not exactly understand. He recalled the fact that years previously Miss Nicol had once before 'tried it on' with him, and signally got the worst of the encounter. On the occasion in question she wanted to wring out of him a promise of an annual 'steepend,' she who was boarded and lodged at his expense, and had 'no call to soil her fingers.'Miss Nicol took quite another view of the matter, and, although she had a small income sufficient to provide her with dress, thought she was well worth five-and-twenty pounds a year.'Ye're out of your mind, Janet,' Mr. McCullagh informed her; 'seeing the riches and extravagance of London has turned your head a wee, I'm thinking.''My cousin John says he'll be glad to give me thirty pounds a year if I'll go to Liverpool and keep house for him.''Then ye can't do better nor accept his offer,' observed Mr. McCullagh, in his most decided manner.'I'm sure I don't want to leave ye,' answered Miss Nicol, 'if ye can only pay me something.''I can pay ye nothing,' retorted Mr. McCullagh, 'nothing at all. It's not as if ye were a servant; ye know, ye've your time to yourself. The children are at school most part of the day, and ye can sit down to your book, or your needle, or, if ye prefer it, go out and see your friends. I told ye before, and I tell ye again, that so long as ye don't stint the food ye may keep aught ye can save out of the housekeeping.''Out of the housekeeping!' repeated Miss Nicol, with a sudden uplifting of hands and eyes. 'Preserve us! A flea would starve upon all that is to be saved out of the money you allow.''If ye're dissatisfied, ye'd best see how ye can hit things off with your cousin: only mind this, Janet, once ye leave here, ye'll leave for always. I can't have ye coming back again in case ye find, when ye get down to Liverpool, ye've jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire;' which last hint was so unmistakable Miss Nicol decided to remain in Basinghall-street.'Better the--you know,' she thought, ' than the--you don't.'She was aware her cousin John had a considerable spice of ill-temper in his nature; for which reason, and also because she firmly believed Mr. McCullagh would one day make her all his own, she decided to stay where she was, save any trifle she could out of candle-ends, and wait patiently for what, in the fulness of time, might be brought forth.'I wonder what she has in her mind now?' considered Mr. McCullagh, reverting to the insubordination of his womenkind. 'I'm not surprised at Effie, because I've been forced to come down pretty heavy over her knuckles to rout that notion of Robert out of her mind; but Janet seems clean demented. A fine thing, indeed, if I am to ask her leave and license before I go to eat my dinner at a friend's house!'He went on with some work he had brought with him from the opposite office, and becoming gradually absorbed in the interesting details of business, soon forgot all about Miss Nicol's discontent and Effie's disappointment; indeed, he had so many calculations to make and important items to enter that time slipped away without his noticing the fact, and he was only at length aroused from his occupation by a gentle knocking on the panel of the door.'Come in, come in,' he cried, 'whoever ye are! O, it's you, Effie, is it?' he added, as that meek and colourless young person advanced a step or two into the room.'Will I bring ye down a cup of tea?' she said, in that low voice of hers which always seemed to be begging pardon for making itself heard at all.'What, is it that late?' asked Mr. McCullagh. 'Why, bless me,' he went on, 'I had no notion of the hour! No, no: I'll come up. I'11 follow ye immediately. Is the tea wet?''Ay, this twenty minutes,' answered Effie. 'That's why  thought I'd tell ye;' and she flitted, with her dull, lifeless, un-girlish step, back to the first floor, where she now lit a candle, and poured more water into the teapot, and buttered some scones she had been keeping hot on a little toaster hanging before the meagre fire.'Ye've a good smell here,' said Mr. McCullagh, entering the room a minute afterwards. 'What is it--griddle-cakes?''I thought I'd bake ye some scones,' answered Effie. 'Ye didn't take much dinner, I noticed.''I'd plenty for my dinner: but scones are aye welcome. Where's Janet?''If ye mind she said she was going round this evening to see old Mrs. Anderson.''I b'lieve she did,' returned Mr. McCullagh, who felt his kinswoman's absence a relief. Those scones are capital, Effie; ye've a rare light hand for baking of all sorts.'Effie received this compliment in silence, with a drooping head and a sad smile. It was an awful experience to try to keep up a conversation with :her. Nevertheless Mr. McCullagh, who possessed the great virtue of never sulking, plunged cheerfully into the abyss.'Have ye been for a walk to-day?''No, I haven't.''But ye'll have been for your music-lesson?''No.''How's that? Why didn't ye go?''It's not the day for it.''Ye're not eating anything. Have a piece of scone?''I'm doing very well,' answered Effie, munching a morsel of stale bread.'Nonsense! Take some of this while it's hot;' and Mr. McCullagh hospitably handed the plate across the table. Effie modestly helped herself to the eighth portion of one of the delicacies proffered. 'And so this isn't the day you have your lesson?''No.''D'ye think ye're getting on well with the piano?'I can't tell.''But your mistress says you've made great head.''Ay, so she says.''Ye don't speak as if ye were exactly of her opinion.'Mr. McCullagh intended this remark merely in the way of a polite observation, for his mind was wandering off on quite an opposite path from Effie and her music; but the maiden accepted it as a query.'Well, I'm not,' she said, in that low slow drawl which was to English ears so inexpressibly aggravating, but which Mr. McCullagh considered the 'right sort of thing' in a 'lassie.' 'If she'd just a bit more life about her,' he sometimes added. 'I thought I was getting on fairly till I heard you talking about the way those ladies "made the piano speak."''D'ye mean Mr. Pousnett's daughters?''I couldn't mean anybody else,' answered Effie meekly.'Well, their performing is something beyond the ordinary, that's a sure thing,' said Mr. McCullagh meditatively.'Ye don't think I'd ever be able to play like them?''Ye might, ye know,' replied her relative. But his tone implied that if he had observed 'ye might not,' it would have been nearer the mark.'I was talking to Mrs. Olfradine about it,' went on Effie, 'and she tells me she believes musicians are born, not made.''That's curious too, and her a teacher.''She can teach,' continued Effie, taking heart to speak out her parable; 'but she can't play, not like those you were telling me of.''That's a pity,' answered Mr. McCullagh, helping himself to another scone.'And I'm very sure,' finished Effie, putting a little drop of tea in her cup, and filling it up with lukewarm water,--'I'm sure I'll never be able to play like them either.''Ye'11 play well enough,' returned Mr. McCullagh encouragingly. 'It's nice to hear the pianoforte made go through its paces once in a way; but I'd just as lief hear ye droning out some old lilt in the twilight, that takes me back to the times when I was a lad, and used to follow old Garvin Drimly, the blind fiddler, down to the place where the steamers landed. My word, he used to make a mint of money! Lord he could give "Roy's wife of Aldivalloch" in a way that might

have raised the very dead! If ye've done your tea, Effie, and a very poor one it was, go and play us "Roy's wife."'Beautifully compliant, Miss Effie Nicol move to the instrument, which was entirely out of tune, of which several notes were dumb, and evoked from its internal economy as best she might the air Mr. McCullagh's soul loved exceedingly.'Ay, ay,' he said; 'that's it. Weel done, Effie! I can see Garvin
now, as I've seen him a hundred times, with the fiddle pressed against
his cheek, and his right hand working the bow like a steam-engine, and
his sightless eyes rolling in his head, and all the dirty bairns of
the town at his heels, playing away like a good one. Let's have it
again, Effie;' and as, encouraged by his enthusiasm, her stiff awkward
fingers managed to evolve some faint semblance of spirit out of the
instrument, Mr. McCullagh, who had by this time finished his own tea,
grew so excited, he seized a knife in his left hand and beat time with
the handle on the table, whilst snapping his fingers at intervals
jubilantly, he chanted out, in a sort of thin cracked tenor,
'Roy's wife of Al-di-valloch,Roy's wife of Al-di-valloch,Wot ye how she cheated ME,As we cam' ower the braes of Balloch?''Ye'll do, ye'll do, Effie,' he exclaimed, when, after having sung all the verses, and ended with a shriek on the last syllable, which he pronounced 'lough,' in a manner no English tongue could ever hope to pronounce, the melody played on the piano and the vocal melody died away into silence at the same time. 'Ye'll do. So long as ye can turn a tune like that, ye needn't trouble your head about Miss Pousnett's shakes and quavers.'Mr. McCullagh had not the faintest idea what a quaver might be, but he used the word as a good general sort of musical term.The fair Effie, not at all elated by the extraordinary performance in which she had just taken part, glided silently from the piano to the tea-table, where, in a dull and mournful manner, she piled the plates, knives, cups, saucers, and other impedimenta skilfully upon the tray. Having concluded which ceremony, she called the red-armed hard-featured servant Mr. McCullagh generally, in an easy colloquial sort of way, mentioned simply as 'the gairl.'CHAPTER XV.
NEW YEAR'S-EVE 1854.UPON the second occasion of his being 'drest in all his best'-not to walk abroad with Sally, indeed, but to repair to Mr. Pousnett's-Mr. McCullagh did not exhibit himself before the eyes of his womenkind with the pardonable vanity which had entrance into high life.He understood high life now, and told himself he didn't feel one bit elated at the prospect of penetrating once again into the Pousnett-Portman region.Nevertheless, such is man, and such is the power over him of a fashionable neighborhood, that Mr. McCullagh at heart only felt too glad to be bidden to a ceremonial in which he thought there was neither use nor sense.Quite jubilantly he shaved his remarkable face, and confided to himself at the same time:'This is quite a new sort of thing for you to do, Robbie, my boy.''Well, yes,' his self returned for answer; 'but it is better late nor never.''My word,' he exclaimed, a little later on in the solitude of his chamber--and I will observe that he pronounced the monosyllable 'wird'--'it's changed times wi' the laddie that cam' into London to find his uncle dead and himself jist cast a-loose in the streets of the big city like a stray sheep. There's not many would have bidden him to dinner then.'Much pleased with which considerations, Mr. McCullagh inducted himself by safe and sure process into various articles of his attire, that shall not, in the interests of propriety, be more particularly named; and when at length he was fully dressed, he looked at himself approvingly in the glass, glanced first over one shoulder and then over the other, and, with a sarcastic chuckle, observed,'My faith, Robbie, ye're no sic a bad-looking fellow, after all. Maybe Mr. Pousnett had his reasons. We're told there's

reason in the roasting of eggs, though I never could see where there was rhyme, nor sense either, in the proverb, because I was always unable to understand how eggs could be roasted at all. That wee fellow in Old Mortality was a good hand, they say, at turning them in the ashes; but I've tried the game myself, and could make nothing of it.'From all of which utterances it will be seen Mr. McCullagh was not merely in good spirits, but in the highest of spirits. Having once made a plunge into great society, it was a relief to him perhaps, on the whole, that his second essay of swimming in such strange waters should in no way be impeded by the presence and fancies of his first-born. Robert, he was aware, lacked on occasions all elements of geniality. He did not take things as they came.'Always and ever,' decided Mr. McCullagh, 'he's thinking about what they think of him. Now a man can't enjoy himself if he has for continuancy that sort o' demon grinning over his shoulder.'If his 'weemen folk' had behaved themselves properly--that is to say, if Effie had not showed such a desponding lack of resignation, and Miss Nicol such a jealous spitefulness--Mr. McCullagh would have rewarded their good behaviour by again exhibiting himself in all his bravery before their eyes. It will be remembered he did this--on the previous occasion, but now things were a 'bit altered.' He did not feel sure of sympathy or appreciation, 'quite the contrair;' so, having put his top-coat over his finery, he went up-stairs, and, merely remarking, 'There's no call for anybody to sit up for me,' took his way swiftly down again into the hall.The plaintive Effie mournfully hurried out with a candle to light him; but he called to her,'Thank ye, but I don't need it. I've a candle here;' which, indeed, he had, and left moreover flaming in a draught near the keyhole.No man would have been more severe upon such extravagance in another than himself; and knowing this well, Effie retired to notify the fact to Miss Nicol.'Save us!' exclaimed that admirable lady; 'the world's coming to an end, I'm thinking. What next, I wonder! He's goin' clean out of his mind! I wouldn't be one bit surprised if any day he brought home one of those grand young women he seems to set such store by.''I'm thinkin' they wouldn't have him' answered Effie, to

whose inexperienced fancy Mr. McCullagh did not seem exactly an eligible suitor.'TRUST them!' retorted Miss Nicol, with bitter scorn. 'If ye put a coat on a clothes-prop, and put ten thousand pound in its pocket, there isn't one of that sort of girl but would jump at it.''Do ye think that?' asked Effie.'Think!' with withering scorn. 'No; but I'm sure.'After which wholesale condemnation of the upper stratum of society,
Miss Nicol sat down to her needlework, and Effie to tatting, a species
of fancy occupation much in vogue with 'maidens old and maiden young'
about that time of the world's history. As she formed one part of the
pattern after another--who knew?--perhaps Effie reconstructed also a
portion of the demolished edifice of her life. If Mr. McCullagh 'took'
to one of the Miss Pousnetts, it was not so very likely Robert would
take 'till another.' There was hope still; all was not lost.Meantime Mr. McCullagh was wending his way due west, pleasing himself, as the omnibus rattled slowly along--for omnibuses literally crawled at that remote period--with conjuring up visions of what there would be to eat, and how Mrs. Pousnett would have 'help after help,' and what the young lassies would wear, and what the company would talk about, and what a lot Mr. Pousnett would make of 'plain auld Rab.'Yes, certainly he felt very glad Robert was not to be of the company.'He sat, that last night,' considered his father, 'with that Adour a look on him, and his visage that hard set, he might have chilled a victorious army, let alone me. I'll be easy and unconcerned to night, and able to tell better what Mr. Pousnett is made of.'A problem which might have taxed an even wiser head that screwed quite firmly on Mr. McCullagh's shoulders.Once again the brilliantly lighted house; the decorous butler; the spacious hall; the soft, sure, silent service; the drawing-room door flung wide; the 'glamour' of an apartment exquisitely furnished, lighted by wax-candles, filled with the scent of rare flowers, adorned by the presence of lovely women.For the Miss Pousnetts were very pleasing to look upon; they had sweet voices, agreeable faces, nice figures. To every sense they were grateful. They always did the right thing well

and gracefully. If it had been necessary for them to shake hands with a sweep, they would have done it, and never let the sweep see they knew their gloves were soiled. There is more in manner than most people imagine. For a moment Mr. McCullagh, as he crossed the threshold of that social heaven, felt there was all in manner.Blandly genial as usual, Mr. Pousnett, the moment his name was announced, came forward to meet Mr. McCullagh, and bid him welcome; while Mrs. Pousnett, in a purple-velvet dress, trailed her skirts across the carpet, and, taking his hand in both of hers, said,'I am so glad to see you again; it is so good of you to come!''I've been looking up my songs, Mr. McCullagh,' added the eldest daughter, holding his fingers in what the Scotchman afterwards called a 'good grip.''And we have been practising reels,' adventured Miss Vanderton. 'We think we are perfect, but no doubt you will show us we are all wrong.''If I'd been Whittington or Gresham, Lords Mayor of London,' explained Mr. McCullagh afterwards, 'they couldn't have set greater store by me.''It must have been extraordinarily gratifying,' said Mr. Anderson, the friend to whom he confided this utterance. Gratifying! Well, we all know there are times when words will not express what we feel, and one of those seasons was upon Mr. McCullagh that night. The way Pousnetts 'got on' was 'just beyond everything; laughing and joking and making merry like a lot of children.'Dinner was served in the library, altogether a snugger place to dine than the large apartment where that meal was generally partaken of. A most select company sat down to table; and to them collectively, but most especially to Mr. McCullagh, Mr. Pousnett, unfolding his napkin, explained that, as the 'young people' intended to have a 'hop,' their elders were obliged to 'make shift' where they could.'Because, Mr. McCullagh,' said Mrs. Pousnett blandly, beaming upon their honoured guest from the head of the table, whither she had been conducted, not by the new partner's father, but by a City man, upon whose very name Mr. McCullagh had hitherto looked with awe, 'I cannot bear to have my drawing-room, the place where one lives, turned out of window.'It was a nice quiet dinner of eight--only four of the Pousnett family and four strangers. 'Nothing,' explained Mr.McCullagh subsequently, 'could have been more elegant; the talk was good and sensible; the food all that a man could think of almost; the wine old and sound. We had a heap of conversation, after the ladies left the table, upon politics and commercial matters; and I may say in a general way the views expressed were correct. They just accorded with my own. They were all dead against the notion of Limited Liability-an idea, as I have often remarked, which is just a child's folly. Mr. Pousnett said such a bill, even if brought in, would never be passed; and then some man, a member of Parliament, if I understood rightly, said, "I'll bet you ten to one that, before you are eighteen months older, it will be the law of England." "Then England will begin to go down-hill," answered Mr. Pousnett. He's a wonderfully clever man, and has the best of breeding. He asked my opinion, and I'm very sure they all listened to me laying down the law with the height of respect and attention.'Which fact must have been extremely grateful to Mr. McCullagh, who loved laying down the law, and delighted in securing an understanding audience.But at length they had to leave wine and politics and business, and ascend to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Pousnett was performing the conversational feat of talking to about twenty persons at the same time. To her Mr. McCullagh listened with exactly the same interest as that with which he would have watched a conjurer keeping up eight or ten balls. Just for a moment he thought, 'Now here's a rare bit to tell Janet and Effie, it will make them laugh;' but suddenly recollecting the effect produced by his previous confidences, he decided to maintain silence at home concerning the events of this, to him, wonderful evening.After a time, the young people began to troop down-stairs, and the music made even old folks' pulses throb a little quicker, to the tune of some remembered melody.'It's heartsome, it's heartsome,' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, as he stood beside Mr. Pousnett in the doorway, looking at the dancers.'You will take a turn yourself, Mr. McCullagh, will you not?' Mr. Pousnett politely suggested.'Thank ye, not just now; maybe after a bit I might try a step. I don't know much about your polkas and waltzes and

quadrilles; but when I was a boy I could foot a reel with anybody, let that other be who he liked.''We will have a reel, then, presently,' said Mr. Pousnett.'O, don't hurry yourself on my account,' answered the genial Scotchman. 'I'm doing very well. It is a real pleasure to me just to look on. It's as good as a flower-garden. I do not mind me ever to have seen so many well-favoured lassies together at one time. And aren't they graceful? Look at that young lady with the pearls in her hair: how she glides over the floor! A swan couldn't do it better.''I am sure you flatter us all,' answered Mr. Pousnett; and he really did look pleased at the compliment. 'Some day I hope to call that young lady my daughter-in-law. She is engaged to my eldest son.''Ye don't say that!' cried Mr. McCullagh. 'Is he here to-night? If so, ye might show me which he is.'For the sons of the house had not put in an appearance at dinner, for the very sufficient reason that their father did not want them to be present.'He is dancing with the young lady you admire.''What, that tall handsome fellow! He is a strapper; they are a splendid couple. It is beautiful to see how she seems to float, and the way he guides her through the other couples.''I shall tell her what you say,' laughed Mr. Pousnett,' and then you will see how she blushes.' A programme which was very shortly carried out successfully.'How do you like our Christmas decorations, Mr. McCullagh?' asked Miss Pousnett, a little while after, coming up to where the Scotchman stood, and touching his arm with her fan in a delightfully friendly manner. 'We did it all ourselves. We made the wreaths and garlands, and my brothers nailed them up. We had such fun! There are few things I like so much as working among green leaves.''It is just too beautiful,' answered Mr. McCullagh, looking so straight in her face as he spoke it might have been imagined he was referring to it. 'I feel every now and then that if I shut my eyes for a minute I should find, when I opened them again, all vanished like a fairy scene. It does not appear real, ye understand.''I am so glad you like it,' said Miss Pousnett, smiling sweetly. 'I assure you we hoped you would think it looked well.''And I am sure it was real kind of you pretty young ladies

to think of such a dried-up old stick of business as myself. I feel I am out of my natural condition  among you all. And where, if I may make so free, did ye hang the mistletoe?' he added, with so sly a look the blood rushed up into Miss Pousnett's face, dyeing brow and cheeks and throat with crimson.But it was only for an instant. The next she was herself again, and rose equal to the occasion.'I declare it is too bad of you, Mr. McCullagh,' she exclaimed, 'to ask such dreadful questions. I must go and tell my cousin.''And ask her to scold me?' suggested Mr. McCullagh.'No, it is too shocking for scolding.' And Miss Pousnett glided away, feeling vaguely that, whatever her father's little game might be, it was not worth such a candle as this.'I do believe the odious old creature had a notion of kissing me--me!' she was saying to her sister a minute afterwards. 'I wonder papa insists on our being civil to such a scarecrow.''Never mind, so long as it is not the son,' answered the younger Miss Pousnett gaily; and, taking her partner's arm, she went off laughing.Meantime Mr. McCullagh, standing alone, was considering. 'I'm thinking I put my foot in it that time. Save us, how she flared up all in a minute! She need not have been a bit afraid, though; I do not want to catch her under the mistletoe, pretty though she is.'He felt more vexed and annoyed at the mistake he had made than so simple a matter might seem to require. In his way he was proud, and it mortified him to think he had made than so simple a matter might seem to require. In his way he was proud, and it mortified him to think he had made a slip.'She'll be afraid to give me any more of her pleasant words,' he considered. But in this idea he chanced to be mistaken.Ere long Miss Pousnett, together with Captain Crawford, came up to where he was standing, and said, 'as if she had never been put out,''Now, Mr. McCullagh, we are going to have a reel before supper.''I will look on ye dancing it with the greatest of pleasure,' he answered, in a tone and with a bow he fondly hoped would wipe out all memory of his past offence.'No, you must dance it with us. We sha'n't let you off, so

it is no use making excuses. I am going to introduce you to Captain Crawford's youngest sister. She is quite delighted at the idea of having a countryman for partner.''Then I'll be delighted to have a countrywoman for partner,' answered Mr. McCullagh gallantly, 'though I should have liked well to have cut a figure with yourself. Still, as that honour is not for me, I'll be only too thankful for the honour ye purpose me.''If you make such pretty speeches to Miss Crawford,' said Miss Pousnett, 'you will turn her head.''I have been an awful long time out of practice,' observed Mr. McCullagh, as they crossed the room together.'What a flatterer ladies must have found you when you were fully exercising your powers!' laughed Miss Pousnett.'Well, I believe I was something of a hand at it,' replied the Scotchman, with humble modesty.'Now we are waiting for you only, Mr. McCullagh,' exclaimed Miss Vanderton at this juncture; and looking round hurriedly, the gay Lothario saw indeed that three reels had already been made up.'I thought my dancing days as good as over,' he said to Miss Crawford, a young and very pretty little girl; 'but it's like new life to have such a partner. If I make a mistake ye'll forgive me, won't ye?''I do not think we shall either of us make a mistake,' answered Miss Crawford demurely. 'It would be strange if you or I broke down in our national dance.''That's a good expression, "national dance;" I sha'n't forget that in a hurry.' And then the music struck up, and off they started.It says a good deal for the breeding of Mrs. Pousnett's guests that they looked on the performance which followed as if it were some spectacle got up for their entertainment. Man born of woman could not have helped laughing, but their laughter was not ill-natured. Faster and faster grew the music, wilder and wilder Mr. McCullagh's excitement. He 'louped;' he cracked his fingers; his active little legs and feet seemed everywhere at once; he traced the figure eight with a conviction no one had ever so gone through it before; he looked gratified at the applause which rewarded his efforts; he banged his feet on the floor to mark the time; he uttered strange and unintelligible noises, and when at length the dance ended he

panted out,' Hech!' in an accent and with an energy which procured him another round of applause.Had Robert been there he must have prayed that the roof might fall and cover him; but as he was not the success won by his father was complete and unalloyed.'We'll have that again some day,' said Mr. McCullagh to his partner, as he led her off triumphantly towards the supper-room.'Ye were elegant: I think I may say I never saw a finer bit of dancing in my life.''Mr. Pousnett is going to open the door presently to let the new year in,' observed Miss Crawford. 'They always do that here.''And a right good plan it is too,' said Mr. McCullagh; 'after that it would be a rare thing if they had the march round.''If you mention the matter to Mrs. Pousnett, I have no doubt we could have it. What is it like?''You a Scotchwoman and don't know the march round! It's done to singing, and then everybody at the last joins hands.''That would be charming! Pray ask Mrs. Pousnett! Hush! Mr. Pousnett is going to say something.''I must now request you to come into the hall,' spoke the host. 'It is just upon the stroke of twelve, and I am going to fling wide the door.'They all trooped out, those who could not find standing room in the hall crowding up the staircase.The door stood open.'It's a most impressive sight,' said Mr. McCullagh; but Miss Crawford lifted a finger to impress silence upon him.'Welcome, eighteen hundred and fifty-five!' cried Mr. Pousnett, in a loud voice, as the last stroke of twelve died away; and a sort of shout of greeting met the new-born year as every one present echoed the words:'Welcome, eighteen hundred and fifty-five.''Well, I do call that something like,' observed Mr. McCullagh to a gentleman who was standing by.'Yes; it wasn't bad,' answered the youth tolerantly.'Now we must have the march round,' suggested Miss Crawford, and they had; they filed two and two round the whole of the dining-room, singing 'Auld Lang Syne;' and when they had completed the circuit, they stood solemnly side

by side, hand clasped in hand-and some were clasped very tight-chanting out, 
We'll drink a cup of kindness yetFor Auld Lang Syne.'At the end Mr. McCullagh--who had done his part in an extremely shrill cracked tenor--was melted to tears. He shook hands with his host and hostess, and declared he would never forget that night.There were others who, as they drove away, said they would never forget it either.CHAPTER XVI.
AFTER THE PARTY.IT was the shawmpagne; it must hev been the shawmpagne.' Mr. McCullagh it chanced to be who made these remarks, but he did not utter them aloud. He was in the bosom of his family at breakfast on the morning after Mr. Pousnett's party, 'supping' with a poor appetite his porridge, but trying hard to look as if he liked 'them.'There was not a fault to be found with the preparation. It had not the 'smell of burn' on it. It was of a correct thickness--not thin, but not lumpy. Never had Scotia's 'aitmeal' been better nor more cunningly manipulated, yet never had Mr. McCullagh felt less disposed to eat it.Watchful eyes were upon him, however, and he felt constrained if possible to finish the platter. Terribly full seemed the soup-plate containing his mess, which, indeed, he inwardly likened to that of Benjamin, for it looked double his usual allowance; deep as a draw-well appeared the basin of milk with which the porridge was 'supped;' keen as avenging spirits were the memories of his previous night's escapade which recurred to memory; sharper than any prick of conscience the crazing maddening headache of which he 'didna care to speak,' and yet which he 'scarce knew how to thole.'Poor Mr. McCullagh! If any unfortunate wretch ever had to pay for a whistle, that gentleman had to pay for his then. He would have liked well enough to stay in bed and doze away his pain, or sit back in an armchair with a 'cool clout' laid across his throbbing forehead; but either course must have placed him at the mercy of Janet, and he thought in his extremity that, like David, he would rather receive his punishment from the Almighty than fall into the hands of man.'It was the shawmpagne; it must hev been the shawmpagne,' he considered, reluctantly conveying another spoonful of smoking porridge into the basin of cold wholesome-looking

milk. 'I warrant ye, honest whesky never played a reasonable man such
a trick. Why, I've drank-save and bless us, what haven't I drank in the way of good old Scotch, and slept as quiet as a child after it, and turned out next morning as cool and comfortable as man need wish! Lord, yon is a cunning liquor, taking away the head and leaving the legs! I wish I could just mind me of all I said and did no later nor last night.'For in truth the racking headache Mr. McCullagh experienced was but a faint and outward reflection of the agonies of dread gone through since waking that, in some vague way; he had compromised himself amongst all those great folk in Portman-square.'Ye're no so keen on your victuals this morning,' observed Miss Nicol, fastening her kinsman with a cold steely eye. 'Aren't they to your liking?'Mr. McCullagh started guiltily.'I was just about to remark, Janet,' he observed, with a ghastly smile, and cheeks coloured by an emotion Miss Nicol entirely failed to understand, but which at a hazard she attributed to the wiles of 'some young hussy,' 'that I never tasted porridge better made, nor stirred more evenly. There's not a lump of meal as big as a pin's head I have met with yet and it's as fresh and clear of bur as any spring posy. But the fact is, Janet,' he went on, diplomatically speaking the truth and yet concealing the most important part of it, 'I did that last night which is, as you know, clean against my conviction and practice--I ate a first-rate dinner, and then I must needs put a big supper on the top of it; and now, but a few minutes after, so to speak, I am trying to cajole my appetite into thinking it can relish a good breakfast.'Miss Nicol accepted this lengthy explanation with an implicit faith, for which, had Mr. McCullagh only imagined the extent of her belief, he must have felt immensely grateful. There was no reason, indeed, why she should doubt his statement, since no one knew better than herself the number of 'tumblers' and 'ekes' he could take with impunity.She was not aware, either from experience or observation, of the fatal effects which ensue when a man, who has hitherto kept faithful to one stimulant diluted with water, takes to mixing his liquors, and swallowing different sorts of old wines in their native integrity.'And that I should be such a born ediet,' considered Mr.

McCullagh remorsefully, 'as to let myself be inveigled into drinking shawmpagne out of an ordinary glass like water! It tasted no stronger; but, my faith, I know now something about what its strength was. I believe the doctors say there is nothing will put life through a sick man as fast as shawmpagne. All I can say is, there is nothing will take the sense out of a man like it. Just to even to myself what I may have said or done after that big glass, or was it three big glasses? I mind me of Miss Pousnett's look, and I mind me about the people laughing; but I can't remember me of much more. I wonder how I conducted myself; and yet I can't, after all, have been so very far a-jee, for certainly Captain Crawford talked most sensibly as we came home together; and I know he would not let me settle with the cabman.''I suppose they were all very fine'--it was Miss Nicol who once again broke across the chain of his silent soliloquy--'ye might tell us a bit about their great goings-on. It's not to be supposed we shall ever see the like; but we'd fain be told how such grand people enjoy themselves.''Just like ourselves, Janet,' was the reply, 'only more, it seems to me--as is natural, seeing they have not a thing to vex themselves about from the 1st of January till the 31St of December.''But that's no answer,' returned Miss Nicol. 'How many had ye? Were they old or young, handsome or plain, well dressed or just simple, like me and Effie?'Which last was a home-thrust which might have touched Mr. McCullagh once, but in these latter days passed him by scathless.'How many?' he repeated; 'faith, I can't tell ye that, Janet; only it was a great gathering, and for the most part they were young; and whether they were handsome or not, they looked handsome. As for dress'--and here Mr. McCullagh stretched out one hand with a gesture deprecatory of his powers of describing, even faintly, what miracles in the way of costume he had seen--'it was just unimaginable. One grander nor another, one quieter nor another. Mrs. Pousnett was trailing about in velvet, and her niece in a whisp of white muslin that looked as if it had never seen starch. Miss Pousnett had on a pink silk, Effie; and her sister was dressed in blue areophane, I think Miss Crawford called the gown. Talk of money, why, it must have been trundling about, while the young women I saw last night were putting on them.''And who was the best-looking of all ye saw?' asked Miss Nicol, with some diplomacy.'I'm sure I can't say, it would be like picking one flower out of a posy. They all looked pretty, and they were all pleasant; but just to make a choice, I could not see one to compare with a lady dressed all in black, with a white camilla in her bodice, and pearls twisted through her hair. She was like a queen, only far nicer spoke. She's a great heiress, I'm told--has something to the tune of two or three hundred thousand pounds put by to commence fighting the baker and butcher with; and young Pousnett and she are going to make a match of it,' Mr. McCullagh added, with a little pardonable touch of pride in his withered and wizened old voice.'I wonder ye're satisfied to come back here and put up with Effie and me,' remarked Miss Nicol, in her most jocular manner.'Hoots, Janet!' retorted Mr. McCullagh; 'why wouldn't I be glad to come back out of that Babel to my ain fireside? After all there's nae place like hame; and that minds me they had the march round last night, and everybody sang, "Auld Lang Syne."''Ye don't mean it ' said Miss Nicol.'Deed do I,' returned Mr. McCullagh. 'We all of us marched round the room, some smiling, some courting, some like myself maybe, thinking of days that could come ower again nae mair; and the band played "Auld Lang Syne;" and then somebody--I think it must have been Miss Crawford--lilted softly,
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,And never brought to min'?Should auld acquaintance be forgot,And days o' Lang Syne?"
If ye believe me, just in a minute everybody was singing, as with one voice,
"For Auld Lang Syne, my dear,For Auld Lang Syne;We'll drink a cup o' kindness yetFor Auld Lang Syne."
That's right, Janet, that's bravely done! I see you can turn a tune yet with the youngest o' them.'A compliment of so dubious a nature that Miss Nicol's

reception of it in total silence cannot be considered extraordinary.'It's thinking about all those nice young ladies hinders ye eating your breakfast,' she suggested.'Well, maybe that has some share in the matter,' answered Mr. McCullagh, with an attempt at liveliness creditable in the extreme when the extent of his physical sufferings is remembered; 'but I think that supper has most to answer for.''What had ye?' asked Miss Nicol.'What hadn't we would be easier to say,' he answered. 'I never saw such a table spread before, never. There was just everything you could imagine, and many things ye never saw. Turkeys and fowls and disguised meats and cookies of all sorts; and jellies and creams and ices; and shawmpagne-cup and claret-cup, and every wine almost ye could name; and the pictures all decked with holly and wreaths of evergreen;' and involuntarily Mr. McCullagh's eyes sought the barren formality of his own four walls, where, above a couple of inexpensive prints, Effie had stuck a few sprigs of holly, the leaves of which were already shrivelled and making a litter, as Miss Nicol, in the plenitude of her housewifely zeal, declared no further gone than that very morning.'I suppose it was very pretty, uncle?' hazarded the younger woman, speaking for the first time.'Pretty,' he repeated, with emphasis: 'it was just beautiful. Out of fairyland nothing, I suppose, was ever seen like it. I would have been well pleased for ye to have had a look at it. Something that for ye to remember all your days, and talk about to your grandchildren when ye get to be an old woman.'There was a dead silence, so dead that Mr. McCullagh looked around him in amazement. He knew a good deal about women, but he did not yet understand that the average woman cares for nothing except for what she herself takes part in. The glories of the Pousnett household were not as a mere show to Miss Nicol and her niece; they were gall and wormwood--something to hate with a deadly detestation, to keep for seven years in their pockets, like the Cornishman's stone, and turn each day, and many times a day, during that period.'Ye'll take a cup of tea?' hazarded Miss Nicol, after that awkward pause, signing to Effie that she should remove the milk and porridge the master chose to leave unconsumed.'No,' he answered. 'I'm no for any tea. I had enough to eat and to drink last night to last me for four-and-twenty

hours;' and having thus done two good things,--namely, provided against the not improbable chance that he might be as little 'on' for his dinner as he had felt for his breakfast, and also managed to get out the word which had been sticking in his throat and his conscience,--Mr. McCullagh thankfully left his porridge and his tea and his bacon, and proceeded down-stairs, where the first person he saw standing on the mat and looking uncertainly about him was Captain Crawford.'O,' instantly flashed through poor Mr. McCullagh's mind, 'I knew I did something out of the way last night. I must have said a word to offend that young sister of his, and he's come to have it out wi' me.'But Captain Crawford did not look like a man who had come to demand an apology. He smiled pleasantly as he looked at Mr. McCullagh tripping nimbly down the broad easy steps, and holding out his hand, said,'I am fortunate to find you at home. I came round very early, hoping to catch you before you went out. I want to take your advice.''Then, for the Lord's sake, take it some other time,' entreated Mr. McCullagh; 'for I'm clean out of my mind with such a headache as I never had since I was a wee lad and fell from the top of a twenty-foot ladder on to the causeway with a crash they said broke one of the paving-stones.''Why, what is the reason of that?' asked Captain Crawford. 'Surely not the--''Ay, just the--' said Mr. McCullagh, catching the speaker up before he could end his sentence, and framing his own in like mysterious fashion, while hurrying the visitor into his private room, that no word of such a dialogue might be heard up-stairs or caught by the ear of passing clerk or errand-boy. 'I can stand,' he went on, having carefully closed the heavy door against the outer world--'I can stand as much honest liquor as anybody, maybe more; but yon flashing fizzing stuff has done for me entirely. I b'lieve Satan himself is bottled up in it, and just runs riot in a man when the cork bangs out of it for pure delight at being let loose.''And yet Mr. Pousnett's champagne is considered remarkably fine,' observed Captain Crawford.'Fine! I think it is fine! Cream was never softer, water never tasted milder! but, however, it is of no use talking, my head is fairly splitting. I don't believe, if I had come down heels last out of a five-story window, it could feel much worse.''What have you taken for it?' asked his visitor sympathetically.'Take! What could I take?''Soda-water, for instance, with a dash of brandy in it.''And where would I get soda-water?''If you have none in the house' ('In the house!' repeated Mr. McCullagh, sotto voce.) 'you could get a bottle at any tavern in the neighbourhood.''Why, I might just as well file a declaration of bankruptcy at once!' exclaimed the sufferer. 'If I was to go into any tavern in the City of London on such an errand, I'd have the very street Arabs gibing at me.'Captain Crawford burst out laughing; he could not help it. The seriousness of Mr. McCullagh's manner, the strength of his convictions, the disgusted sickly aspect of his remarkable face, were beyond the gravity of flesh and blood. Recovering himself instantly almost, however, the younger man said,'As I am not known in the City, and my character is not likely to suffer, I will go and get you some soda-water myself;' and he turned to the door, when Mr. McCullagh cried feebly,'Bide a wee, bide a wee! I'll maybe be better after a bit.''No, you won't,' returned Captain Crawford, with the decision of one who knew far more of such matters than his friend. 'I will be back directly, and I won't compromise you, be sure of that.' With which speech he departed, and Mr. McCullagh laid his aching head on the table, and wondered vaguely whether the thing was in creation which could do him any good.He had a certain faith in Captain Crawford and a little in the specific proposed; but it seemed to him at that moment as if neither man nor nature could produce aught likely to exorcise the effects produced by that diabolical 'shawmpagne.''It does not look much like to cure a man in such a state as I find myself,' said Mr. McCullagh plaintively, taking up the bottle Captain Crawford produced, and with one eye closed surveying the contents as he held it up between him and the light.'Try it,' advised the Captain laconically; and having found a tumbler, into which he poured a small modicum of brandy, he was about to unwire the cork, when Mr. McCullagh once again interposed.'For any sake, man, let's make the door sure first. I wouldn't--no, that I wouldn't--for ten pounds, nor twenty, let any one in the house see me taking such a thing.'Many a time in after-days Captain Crawford laughed as he recalled that morning--the poor little Scotchman, his face ghastly, his eyes bleared, standing in an agony of apprehension on one side of the table, while Captain Crawford, having duly 'shot the lock,' unfastened the wire.Bang went the cork with the noise of a field-battery, and, guided by the Captain's skilful hand, out dashed the precious liquid frantically into the tumbler.'We're done for now-we're done!' cried Mr. McCullagh in an agony, evidently expecting every soul on the premises would rush into the hall demanding what was the matter.'Drink it--drink it off,' urged Captain Crawford, presenting the tumbler.'It looks awful like the stuff last night,' hesitated Mr. McCullagh.'It isn't like it, though. Come, Mr. McCullagh, one pull, and you'll be better. There, that's right;' and he took back the empty glass, and, convulsed with merriment, placed it on the chimneypiece.'And the Lord alone knows what I'm to do with the bottle,' said Mr. McCullagh solemnly, 'setting' that awful piece of circumstantial evidence with a serious eye.'Smash it into pieces and put them under the grate,' suggested the Captain, with martial readiness.'Ye little know--ye little know,' observed Mr. McCullagh, mournfully in earnest; 'about a house it's just inconceivable the few things a man can do his womenkind won't ferret till they find every in and out of.''Well, say I had a bottle of soda-water,' suggested Captain Crawford.'I should not like to tell a lie about the matter,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'that is, a straightforward lie, ye understand, though I did let them think this morning it was the late supper last night set me against my porridge. No; I'll just have to put it away for the present in some safe lock-fast place of my own. I'm sure I never thought to have to do such a thing.'It was irresistible. Captain Crawford laughed till the room
 rang again; till Robert, who had that instant entered the hall, paused in amazement, wondering who, in all the wide earth, it was who found it possible to extract such merriment out of anything in that house.'It's easy for ye to laugh,' said Mr. McCullagh, offended: 'if ye were in a strait like mine ye'd maybe be singing to a

different tune. I'd be sorry for ye, if ye were in trouble. I'm very sure of that.''And I am sure I feel very sorry for you,' answered the Captain, vainly trying to compose his features into even an appearance of gravity; 'and to show how sorry I am, I will dispose of the bottle.' I'll take it back to the place whence I got it, and boldly demand the twopence I had, what the land-lady called, to leave upon it;' and suiting the action to the word, Mr. McCullagh's best friend, as he felt him at the moment to be, put the cause of so much dread in his greatcoat pocket, and rose to depart.'I won't trouble you about my little difficulty now,' he said; 'but if to-morrow you could spare me half an hour here, or, better still, come and dine with me at any house in the City you can recommend, I should really feel grateful.'For a moment it crossed Mr. McCullagh's mind that he would ask his friend in need to come and take 'pot luck' at home with him instead; but instantly he dismissed the idea,
 for things in Basinghall-street were greatly changed since he gave his cordial invitation to come and taste that rare elixir he procured, nobody in London knew from whom, over the Border.'There is more nor one good house in the City, he remarked at last,
showing which way his mind inclined.'Well, name any place you like, and come and have dinner there to-morrow at six o'clock.''Let me pay the score,' entreated Mr. McCullagh, after he had mentioned a 'quiet hawtel,' presided over, it is perhaps unnecessary to say, by a canny countryman. 'I'd consider it an honour--I would, indeed--if ye would be my guest.''If I come home from the East with my full complement of limbs,' answered Captain Crawford cheerily, 'or, indeed, if I come back at all, you shall play the host. Now I must have my own way.''Are ye going there in very truth?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'Yes, almost immediately; we have got our orders.''I'm real sorry,' said Mr. McCullagh.'And I am very glad,' replied Captain Crawford quickly; and next minute Mr. McCullagh was watching his retreating figure. as he paced with long soldierly strides across the court.'He's a right good-hearted lad, yon,' soliloquised Mr. McCullagh; 'and I do believe my head is a thought better already.'CHAPTER XVII.
NEW-YEAR'S-DAY.IGNORANT of Mr. Pousnett's decision, unaware that entrance into the charmed precincts of Portman-square was for him never again, Robert McCullagh junior, still with the gloss of the new partnership on his manner, took his way upon the first day of the New Year to North-street, in order to learn what had occurred when, according to arrangement, his cousin called at Pousnetts' office.Ever since the fruition of his hopes, Robert the younger had been absent from London. The astute head of the firm with which he was now connected considered it might be, upon the whole, better if the news of his son's good fortune were conveyed to the Scotch merchant by letter. The questioning and cross-questioning to which, in the first moment of receiving such astounding intelligence, he might subject his first-born, seemed to Mr. Pousnett's wisdom better avoided.'The less your father knows about your concerns now, the more satisfactory you will find it for all parties,' said the greatest man Robert had ever known; and possibly it was for this reason the new partner was despatched somewhat summarily to Holland, where, on one pretext or another, he was detained amongst dead-and-alive cities until Christmas had come and gone.Then he was told to return, taking Paris in his way; and, arriving in London on the very night of Mr. Pousnett's party, started the next day to see his cousin, from whom he had heard nothing in the mean time.Basinghall-street lay directly on his route, so he called there to wish his father many happy New Years. When he entered the hall he was, as has been previously mentioned, astonished to hear shouts of laughter issuing from Mr. McCullagh's private sanctum.'Who on earth is it, Alick?' he asked that youth, who came out of the opposite office at the moment.'I am sure I canna just tell ye, Master Robert,' was the reply. 'I never set eyes on him before. He went out a while agone, and then came back again--a tall strapping man, black-a-vised, and with a great beard.''He seems to be enjoying himself,' remarked Robert a little discontentedly.'Ay, he has been going on like that, off and on, this bit and more. He's maybe not quite right in his head;' with which reasonable suggestion the errand he had to do, and Robert ascended the stairs leading to the upper part of the house, muttering as he went, 'He must be some fool.'The breakfast-things were still upon the table when he entered the apartment to the delights of domestic intercourse, for Miss Nicol and Effie had lingered a little over their weak tea, uttering fragmentary remarks in dispraise of the Pousnett connection, and hazarding various disparaging observations concerning the ladies of that family, and the ill ways of English-women as a mass.'Ye may take my word for it,'said Miss Nicol, in continuation of her subject, 'Mr. Pousnett will never rest till he has gotten your uncle for one of his daughters.''An old man like him!' observed Effie.He's no so old,' retorted Miss Nicol. 'He's not much above fifty, and he is active as a boy. And he has thousands upon thousands,' continued the elder lady, finding Effie made no comment upon the subject of Mr. McCullagh's activity, which Miss Nicol might, indeed, have extolled had she only seen him on the previous evening; 'and money is all that sort think about. If one of them gets hold of him the thousands will soon melt down to tens, or less nor that.''He has more sense, I am very sure,' said Effie.'Has he?' snapped Miss Nicol. 'All men are just naturals when a pretty woman, or one they think pretty, is in question. Besides, he made a bad match once, and what would hinder him making another? Of all the useless creatures I ever did cross his wife was just the top. She could not wash out a handkerchief, barely knew how to sew a button on a shirt. She was all for show and company and gossip and the best of living, and would sit for the hour making fun of the Scotch and mimicking her husband to his face.''That was Robert's mother,' suggested Effie.'Of course it was,' answered Miss Nicol sharply. 'What wife but her had your uncle ever, and Robert is as like

her in his ways as two peas in a pod? I wonder who that is down-stairs? I never heard such guffawing before. It is some of the new fashions, I suppose. Good gracious, Robert, ye might as well kill us outright as frighten us to death,' she added hurriedly; for Robert had come in through the door, which was a little ajar, and crossed the room softly, and laid both hands on her shoulders before she was aware of his presence, and said cheerily,'A happy New Year, and many of them, to both of you!''And the same to you,' answered Miss Nicol. 'Why, what a time it is
since you honoured us with a visit!''I have been away,' he answered. 'I only came back yesterday.''And how did ye enjoy yourself last night?' asked Miss Nicol, looking with what she considered an arch expression towards Effie, and evidently wishing her to share the humour of the question. Effie, however, was not to be seduced into any indecorous manifestation of hilarity. She kept her eyes modestly fastened on a crumb, the most perfect incarnation of 'still life' Robert thought he had ever beheld.'I was rather tired,' he replied, wondering a little at Miss Nicol's inquiry; 'but I enjoyed myself well enough.''Ye didn't see your father?''No; I have just come round to see him now.''But that's not what I mean. Ye didn't catch a glimpse of him last night?''How should I? where was he?''He said he didn't see you,' answered Miss Nicol, with an exquisite relish of her own wit; 'but there was such a throng he might have missed you.''I do not know what you are talking about,' said Robert, mystified.'Why, about your party!' exclaimed Miss Nicol, with another look towards Effie.'There were not many at it; and you know my father never goes to Mr. Mostin's.'''Deed, and it is not Mr. Mostin I am talking of. Somebody very different indeed,' and Miss Nicol actually giggled; 'isn't he, Effie?''Ay,' agreed that young lady mournfully; and she turned the crumb with the tip of her forefinger.'Where was my father last night?' asked Robert, in desperation.'Why, at Mr. Pousnett's, no less!' exclaimed Miss Nicol, who thought she had led up to this point with exceeding generalship.'At Mr. Pousnett's!' repeated Robert. 'Are you sure?''We are sure enough, aren't we, Effie? And he never came back till the small hours; and they had dancing and singing and I don't know what all, and he could hardly swallow a bite of breakfast; and he's just full of those people and their goings-on. And so you were not asked, Robert?''I was not in London to be asked,' returned the young man, nettled.'No more ye were; but I suppose Mr. Pousnett knew when ye might likely be expected back. However, it just confirms me in my thought.'Robert did not dare ask her what her thought had been. He was so accustomed to oracular utterances covering disagreeable suggestions that he lacked courage to beg Miss Nicol to explain the remark. But Miss Nicol was not to be balked. Though he would not question her, she would answer him.'I'll just tell ye my candid mind, Robert. I feel certain sure Mr. Pousnett will never rest till he has got your father for a son-in-law.'Hearing which astounding proposition the young man burst into a peal of laughter. It was too much for him; the idea of his father standing in that relationship to Mr. Pousnett was more than he could bear with gravity.He had not a keen sense of humour; indeed, it may be safely said he was almost destitute of that faculty, but there was something in the picture Miss Nicol conjured up which caused him to laugh as he had probably never done before in that house.'Everybody seems to be very merry this morning, Effie,' remarked Miss Nicol, vexed that Robert could laugh on such a subject.If she intended to include Effie amongst the number, her opinions about merriment must have been singular indeed, for a more woe-begone-looking creature it would have been hard at that moment to find.Perhaps this notion struck Robert also, for he went off at score again.'As ye're in such a daffing humour,' observed Miss Nicol, it is a pity ye you had not stopped a bit on your way up.

Such screeching and laughing I never heard before as has been going on down-stairs. Maybe ye can tell us who it is that has been shouting and guffawing like a madman.''I think he brought a popgun in with him,' said Effie, plaintively joining in the conversation.'That reminds me I have brought you a little present,' began Robert, for the first time directly addressing his younger relation. 'It is not much worth. It is a bracelet,' he went on; 'and I did not know what would be most useful to you,' he added, turning to Miss Nicol, 'so I bought a brooch. I hope you will like it;' and he placed two small cases on the table.'Ye'll not keep much out of your partnership if ye begin making such presents,' said Miss Nicol sententiously.It was not, perhaps, the most graceful way of receiving a gift imaginable; but Robert well knew the genial manners which prevailed in his father's house, and understood Miss Nicol was gratified.As for Effie, a faint red spot was visible on the top of each pallid cheek, and she managed to get out, 'I'm sure it was very good of ye to think of me;' while something that bore the similitude of a smile hovered around her thin close-shut lips.'Put it on and let's see how it looks,' cried Miss Nicol, at the same time fastening her brooch in its place, and glancing down at its beauties with a pride she could not conceal. 'Ye'll be grand now, Effie, when ye go next to tea at Mrs. Anderson's. Gracious, Robert,' she added, when Effie, having clasped the bracelet round her wrist, 'that bit of a thing must have cost a mint of money!''Never mind what it cost, so long as Effie likes it,' answered Robert gallantly, though indeed qualms as to the prudence of a man in his position buying anything had crossed his mind when in agonies of being tossed up and down in the Channel.'And what'll ye have brought for your father?' asked Miss Nicol curiously. 'I'll warrant he's no been left out in the cold.''What, are ye talking about me?' inquired Mr. McCullagh himself at this juncture. 'Well, Robert,' he went on, without waiting for any reply, 'so ye're back safe and sound. And how's a' wi' you?'Considering that Robert's hat covered his family, this question might be regarded as somewhat superfluous; but Mr. McCullagh had a stock of such phrases, and was in the habit

of airing them on occasions of high festivity or when he was in the best of tempers. Knowing this, his son answered demurely that all with him was pretty well, that he had been abroad until the previous day, and that he had just 'dropped in'--to wish his father many a prosperous and pleasant 1st of January.
'Thank ye, Robert; the same to ye wi' all my heart. "Gie's a hand, my trusty frien," quoted Mr. McCullagh, speaking as enthusiastically as the state of his body would permit; and Robert having complied with his request the pair shook hands with a gravity and solemnity which invested the proceeding with something of the nature of a religious ceremony.'I'm glad ye've come back in such good spirits,' went on Mr. McCullagh, who was not himself that morning much inclined to look through rose-coloured spectacles. 'Ye seemed to have found a jest that amused ye mightily as I came up the stair.'Robert smiled. 'I was only laughing at something Miss Nicol said,' he explained. Hearing which Miss Nicol put her finger to her lip; a gesture Robert failed to notice, but which did not escape his father's quick eye.'It's no often Janet gives us anything diverting,' observed Mr. McCullagh, relishing her confusion with an exceeding delight. 'Let's hear what it was, Robert. I'm just in want of a heartsome word to cheer me up a bit.''Then I'm certain, sir, her notion ought to do you good,' answered Robert, perfectly unconscious of how beautifully he was putting his foot in it.' 'She believes Mr. Pousnett will know rest neither by day nor night till he has got you for a son-in-law.''The next thing I let on to you, Robert--' Miss Nicol was indignantly beginning, when Mr. McCullagh blandly interposed with,'Hoots, Janet! If ye like to talk babbles, ve can't complain if people repeat babbles; not,' he proceeded, 'that I can altogether wrong in your opinion. There's many a one would think twice before refusing me. However, if it's any ease to both your minds I may just tell ye I don't mean to ask Miss Pousnett or any other woman-body to come to Basinghall-street as my wife. Your mother and me, Robert, weren't as cosy, maybe, as we might have been; still I'm no going to put such an affront on her memory as to marry again.''Indeed, if it would make you happier--' cried Robert eagerly. But his father cut short whatever else he intended to 
say by remarking,'But it wouldn't, it couldn't. All I want in this world now is to see my sons doing well and marrying quiet sensible wives, that'll no dance a jig with them to the Bankruptcy Court. For myself, if I can live honest and die respected, that's enough for me. And if ye could, any of ye, just tell me something that would rid me of as much of this awful headache as the soda-water didn't take away, I'd bless you,' he added mentally; but he lacked courage to speak the words aloud, though indeed Robert would cheerfully have ordered in six dozen of soda-water for him if he had only known his father desired such an extremely unlikely article.'It was all a joke of mine,' said Miss Nicol, taking advantage of the pause which ensued to set herself right with the master of the house. 'I never thought Robert would deem I meant such a remark to be taken seriously.''A joke, was it?' commented Mr. McCullagh dryly. 'Well, Robert might be excused his mistake; ye're little in the habit of cracking jokes, Janet. About once in seven years serves your turn, I'm thinking.'With which crushing statement Mr. McCullagh, deciding the conversation with the grace and beauty of his establishment might conveniently end, asked Robert if he wouldn't like to step down-stairs and 'take a look about him.'Upon the face of this earth there was nothing Robert was less likely to desire than to take a look about him in his father's counting-house. Still he acceded to the proposal with great apparent willingness, and was duly escorted in a sort of triumphal march over the premises.He had written to and received a congratulatory letter from his father on the subject of the new partnership; while his brothers, breaking the chain of silence which generally distinguished their intercourse with Robert, were good enough to express their pleasure at his good fortune. But this was the first time he had appeared in the flesh in the Scotch warehouse since getting his promotion, and Mr. McCullagh, though, to quote his own expression, 'his head was splitting,' determined not to let him escape till every man and errand-boy in receipt of 'weekly wage' beheld the son who was now, in a 'manner of speaking,' as good as Pousnett himself.Never in all his recollection had the new partner seen his

father so agreeable. He hinted that if his first-born had a fancy for a relish of marmalade with his breakfast, or entertained a wild desire to conciliate some friend with a present of 'Finnan haddies,' a pound or two of hard biscuits, and even a bottle of whisky, any one, or all, of these delicacies might be his for the asking. He sampled him some 'sweeties,' and generously
 bade him pocket the scoopful, which Robert did with as good a grace as he could command. He asked almost pathetically if there was anything the young man could fancy, and bade him not be shy about naming the fact if anything 'struck his eye.'He took great care to tell every one Mr. Robert had just come back from Holland, and asked him so many questions appertaining to the Scotch trade, or rather to the absence of almost all Scotch trade among the Dutch, that, for a time, his son really supposed he had an idea of establishing a branch business--say at Amsterdam.He was nice, too, in more than one respect; for he never put a query concerning the nature of the business which had taken Robert across the seas, and he refrained also from mentioning the previous evening's festivities.'I won't be the one to damp him,' he thought. 'So I'll jest keep a quiet tongue in my head.' Which he did accordingly, and Robert following suit, the great party in Portman Square was not so much as touched upon between them.'I hope Pousnett won't tell him the way I led the dance,' considered the merchant guiltily; for cool reflection had brought with it the idea that 'louping' and 'heching,' and cutting the figure eight, with his arms spread out like the sails of a windmill, were, perhaps, modes of dancing which had been more in place in a barn at Greenock than in a grand London house, with grand people for guests. 'But I don't think he will. Pousnett's no fool; and I'm mistaken if he has not taken Robert's measure to an accuracy.'After a time--after a long time as it seemed to Robert--they left the counting-house and repaired to Mr. McCullagh's office, where before the fire was placed a most luxurious easy-chair, the son's New-Year's gift to his father, which he had desired should be taken direct into that room the moment it arrived.'Bless and save us!' cried Mr. McCullagh, rubbing his eyes in astonishment, and perhaps, for the moment, imagining the 'shawmpagne' was at some new trick and causing him to see double. 'What's that?''A comfortable chair for you, father, which I knew you would not get for yourself,' answered the young man. 'It was the only thing I could think of, you would be likely to use.'Mr. McCullagh did not immediately reply. He went and looked the new purchase over carefully: he pressed down its springs, he felt its stuffing, he patted it gently twice or thrice; he sat down in it, and leaned his head, his still aching head, back with a sense of delightful comfort; then his poor little eyes filled with tears, and rising, he 'gripped' Robert's hand once more, with a feeling stirring at his heart more like love than he had ever felt for him.'Ye'll mak' a lazy man of me, I doubt,' he said, in a light and sportive manner; but Robert saw the tears, and felt if he had paid ten times the amount for the chair he would have been amply rewarded.'I must go back to the office now,' he remarked. 'Mr. Pousnett is sure to want to see me.''Go then, my lad,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'and guid go wi' ye!'As he went away from the door Robert looked at his watch, and found it was necessary he should defer calling in North-street until the next day.CHAPTER XVIII.
IN NORTH-STREET.THE 2d of January found Mr. McCullagh's headache vanished, and Robert so hard at work in his new capacity as partner, that it did not seem to him he should ever be able again to steal enough time during business hours to call upon his cousin.The life in those early days he regarded as delightful. With what a feeling of importance he took possession of his new room, where he had often stood an inferior before one of his masters! How carefully he scrutinised the furniture and locked the drawers! How charming it was to stand upon his own hearth--nay, before his own fire-and chat with this great shipper or that well-known financier no longer as a mere manager, but as the equal of any man who might come there!Yes, it was worth the price he had paid for it, or rather it was worth the price he should have to pay for it. Robert decided this deliberately, though he had come to the conclusion, while wandering in foreign lands, that the price would prove heavy. People who had merely nodded before touched their hats to him now; those who in passing had only said 'Good-day!' crossed the street to shake hands with him. It was quite wonderful to consider the number of persons who were 'so glad' and 'so delighted' and 'so gratified' (though not surprised) to hear he had been taken into partnership. The arid City suddenly blossomed like the rose; the pavements he had often found somewhat dull and dirty put on a gala-dress to welcome this fortunate individual's return. Life in a moment seemed all made up of sunshine. It was not a particularly nice day--indeed, it was a most abominably disagreeable one; but it seemed to the new partner that the weather was better than he had ever known it. In a moment existence had become a fairy-tale, and he was walking through a land of enchantment enchanted.'Have you heard from your cousin since you went away?' asked Mr. Pousnett casually of the new partner.No; his new partner had heard nothing about Alfred Mostin.'He refused the post I offered him here,' said Mr. Pousnett, forgetful, perhaps, that Mr. Robert McCullagh might as well have been consulted about that offer.'I do not think you would have found the arrangement satisfactory if he had accepted it,' hazarded Robert.'I differ from you there,' answered Mr. Pousnett. 'I took to your cousin immensely. A man of parts--wonderfully clever, extremely original. He ought to have been your father's son instead of you.' And, having paid Robert this doubtful compliment, Mr. Pousnett smiled graciously.The new partner coloured. He scarcely knew whether to understand his senior's remark as intended for a sneer at his father or a joke at himself, and, under the circumstances, wisely made only a general proposition, which committed him to nothing--namely, that Alf Mostin was certainly original in his fancy for 'going about the City in a worse coat than man ever elected to wear before.''Never mind about the coat,' said Mr. Pousnett, whose own fit him like his skin; 'it is what lies underneath I look at--the man who wears the coat; and I confess I feel sorry your cousin and I could not come to terms.''I know Alf better than you, sir,' ventured Robert, who in Mr. Pousnett's presence still felt himself a very small person indeed; 'and I am quite sure you could not have got on together. He is a man who never did and who never will do any good for himself or any other person.''That is exactly what Mr. Snow told me,' remarked Mr. Pousnett; 'yet still, as I am very obstinate, I hold to my own opinion. At all events, I should like to have tried to do him some good, but he would not let me.''Would not let you?' repeated Robert, mystified.'No, he would not have anything to do with me at any price,' explained Mr. Pousnett suavely. 'Said he preferred his "diggings"--I use his own expression--in North-street to the best lodgings in London, and his own employment, whatever that may be, to the highest post I could offer him.''Alf said that in so many words?' exclaimed the younger McCullagh.'Alf said that in his own terse and expressive phraseology,' repeated Mr. Pousnett. 'Commenting to you upon his utter-

ances, I can only say I am very sorry, for I liked the young man, and I think he might have grown to like me.''He could not help doing that, sir,' said Robert warmly; a pleasant flattery Mr. Pousnett acknowledged with a courteous inclination of his head.'And now, McCullagh,' the senior partner began, 'there is a little word on business I want to say to you. Don't look alarmed; it is not an unpleasant word,' he went on; for Robert, perhaps from the adverse circumstances which attended his childhood, and the shifty sort of existence he was associated with when a boy, had a trick of starting and turning red when surprised by any unexpected utterance, as if he imagined something disagreeable must be impending. 'I have been thinking most seriously about that Snow business, and what it is best to do concerning it. I may tell you that, if I had not given you my word to take you into partnership for a certain sum of money, nothing should have induced me to accept a partner hampered as you are; but there is no use in dwelling on that now. What we must do is, try to get you out of such hands as soon as possible. No doubt you have been worrying yourself as to how the mere interest is to be paid; and what I want to say is this: Come to me a day or two before you require any given amount, and out of my private account I will advance the sum necessary, which you can afterwards repay to me. In a business such as this it would be destruction if once it were known any partner was in straitened circumstances; and therefore, while depending upon you to exercise all possible economy, I do not want you ever to feel short of a five-pound note. You and I can arrange all that. Do not draw upon your share in the firm except in a lump sum twice a year. Come to me. Just think over the position, and say what you can live upon, burdened as you are; and every week I will give you enough to go on with, and at the end of each six months we will try to satisfy Mr. Snow.''If my heart's blood, Mr. Pousnett--' began Robert.'No, my dear friend,' interrupted Mr. Pousnett easily, 'your heart's blood could not be of the slightest service to me; quite the contrary. We are rowing in the same boat now; and all I ask of you is, to advance our mutual interests as much as possible. When shall you see your cousin?''I thought of going round to his place this afternoon, but there are so many things to do.''Leave them undone, then,' interrupted Mr. Pousnett, who

knew very well speed was not his partner's strong point. 'There is nothing that won't keep till to-morrow. Go to Mr. Mostin, and say I have not yet filled up the post I offered him. He can still have it if he choose to come.''I will certainly give him your message, sir,' answered Robert. 'Still, I cannot help repeating my former opinion--'There came a change over Mr. Pousnett's face, which stopped the further words Robert would have spoken even upon his lips. Contempt, astonishment, anger, strove together for an instant; then in a perfectly smooth voice the Senior Partner said,'We need not go over all that ground again. I have not forgotten your expressed opinion, but I do not attach the slightest value to it. I want Mr. Mostin, and I know why I want him. I understand you perfectly, but you do not understand me.'A statement so undeniably true and so crushing, not merely as to its matter, but also in its manner, that Robert shrank timidly back into his shell, feeling that, as manager, he had never got such a snub. In a vague intangible sort of way he began to comprehend although he might to the outside world be Mr. Pousnett's partner, to that gentleman himself he could never seem other than a servant, and a not very indispensable servant either.'My father was right,' he thought bitterly. 'They did not want me here;' and then he observed aloud, abjectly enough, that he would go at once to his cousin's and tell him what Mr. Pousnett said.The short winter's day was hastening to its close as Robert walked through the filthy streets, which a fall of snow overnight rendered hateful to traverse. The side-paths were unsafe, sloppy, greasy-fenced in by a bulwark of mud and snow swept off the pavement, with which in those days, as in these, the authorities were simply incompetent to deal. The horse-roads were a mass of black sludge and mire. In the morning they had been bad enough; but the traffic of the intervening hours, the wheels of thousands of vehicles, the hoofs of horses, the feet of pedestrians, had worked the City thoroughfares into a state of dirt and discomfort unimaginable save to those who had to pursue their way through them.Gas was blazing in banks and offices as Robert, in the gloomiest of tempers, in the most depressed of spirits, pursued his way. The evening was dark and lowering, giving a promise

of more snow, which promise it righteously fulfilled. Aloft in upper stories dim lights burned fitfully. The City, never cheerful in winter at that especial hour, looked its gloomiest. In dreary graveyards the untrodden snow lay thick over the forgotten dead; up lonely courts solitary lamps blinked sadly; churches, pent between buildings trying to elbow them off the face of the earth, looked more forlorn and melancholy, Robert thought, than he had ever fancied them before. A murky sky brooded overhead, a sky which seemed to hold no promise of moon or stars again in the lifetime of man. In the less frequented lanes and alleys which he trod, the sullen roar of the City's traffic sounded mournful and solemn as the wash of the waves upon some flat and dreary coast.In all his previous experiences of London the new partner had not felt the time and circumstances so utterly depressing. There was a penetrating chilliness in the air which bade defiance to the thickest top-coat, buttoned close though it might be; whilst down-trodden snow struck a damp to the feet which ordinary leather seemed powerless to resist.Walking through the sludge of the streets, shivering at each corner in the teeth of a blast which cut, sharp and stinging, as if it had come but that moment from the North Pole, Robert Cullagh, going over all his grievances, felt as if he hated Alf Mostin. The love he once entertained for him, the affection which not long ago appeared so exceeding strong, was departed, and he told himself he had hitherto mistaken his cousin's character; and that now, for the first time, he saw the spendthrift, the ne'er-do-weel, the man who had no compunction about dipping his hands into other men's pockets, as he really was.Once Robert had heard an irate creditor speak of Mr. Alfred Mostin as a 'plausible rascal,' and had felt not unnaturally indignant at such a description of his relative: but now, recalling Alf's long and unprosperous career,--the chances out of which he had made nothing; the loans and gifts, which might as well, for any good they effected, have been cast into the Thames; the eternal getting into debt; the total failure to emerge from it; the shifts, the subterfuges, the dirty water, the humble pie, the false excuses, the hopeful messages, the broken promises, the monotonous round of continual disaster,--Robert assured his own soul Alfred Mostin was not a desirable individual to know, and determined he would see as little of him as possible for the future.Wherever his cousin went, the model young man reflected

angrily, he was preferred before him. He had a way which, 'took' people, which deceived them, and which might eventually lead to some very unpleasant complications.Take Mr. Pousnett, for instance; he was totally wrong in his estimate of the North-street hermit. He did not know the way in which Alf wasted his life; he had not the faintest idea that Mr. Mostin cooked his own bacon for breakfast, and drank spirits-and-water, with a diligence which characterised no other proceeding of his life, far into the small hours of the night. Alf had no idea of respectability. The household gods most men worship seemed to him but as the gods of the heathen. He would sacrifice no single whim or fancy on the social altar. He did not have his boots blacked, or brush his hat, or wear a good coat, or get his hair properly cut, or do anything other people did except wash himself.Simply, Robert, with the snow insidiously working its way into his boots, and the gloom of that gloomy evening oppressing his soul, felt it was disgusting. He recalled all Alf's sins of omission and commission, all the things he had ever done which he should not have done, all the works he had left unperformed he ought to have cleared away out of hand; and then he returned to the unpardonable fault his cousin had committed of taking Mr. Pousnett's fancy, and causing Robert to receive a snub when he told his chief he knew Alfred Mostin better than he did.'If Alf comes into the house in any capacity,' considered the new partner, who had been lashing himself up into a state of ridiculous irritation as he paced the sloppy and slippery thoroughfares, 'I will ask Mr. Pousnett whether he cannot send me abroad. I never could enter the office comfortably, supposing his coat and hat were hanging on any peg in it.'And yet he had loved Alf Mostin once, and Alf had helped him in many a difficulty; and they had made the midnight echoes ring with laughter, and Robert had formerly thought his cousin the best and cleverest of men.And now Alfred Mostin's sins were that he had helped Robert to compass his desires, and that Mr. Pousnett said he liked him.When once the lawyer's offices were passed at North-street, the visitor was compelled to make his way upward in darkness to Mr. Mostin's rooms. Had that gentleman possessed a gas-burner on either landing, he would have omitted to light it.Once, when expostulated with on the subject, he expressed a

hope one of his numerous duns might break his neck when descending from the office, and so prove a warning to others of the same class, as a kite nailed up against a barn-door is supposed to influence the morals of his fellow birds of prey.'I often wish,' he said, 'I lived in some place where I could pull up the ladder after me!' Failing which he made the ascent to his den. as difficult as narrow stairs, an awkward turn or two, and an almost total deficiency of light by night or day, could render it.As, however, Robert McCullagh, after floundering through the Cimmerian darkness of that final flight, opened the office-door, he was met by a perfect illumination of gas. All the burners were in full play; they had been touched evidently by a reckless hand, and were flaring up to the ceiling in a manner which suggested wild indifference to the collector's next visit. The room was quite empty; the blinds had not been drawn down; not the slightest evidence of work or business appeared to warrant such extravagance in the way of expenditure. Robert knocked at the sitting-room door; but receiving no answer, turned the handle, and entered.The instant, however, he did so, he hurriedly drew back surprised. Seated in the one armchair Mr. Mostin's apartment boasted, with her back turned towards him, was a lady. Standing in his favourite attitude beside the chimneypiece was Alfred Mostin, an expression of dismay and discomfiture on his face: he wore the top-coat to which Robert so objected, and his hat, evidently hurriedly cast aside, lay on the shabby pembroke table close at hand.The lady was doing two things at the same time--talking and crying; her speech came low and soft, yet in little hysterical gusts that seemed to wave her utterances to and fro, as if wafted hither and thither by a gentle wind.Robert could not hear her words; indeed, he scarcely stopped long enough to do so. In his amazement he had remained still for an instant; but now he withdrew, closing the door gently after him.This second movement aroused Mr. Mostin's attention, and with only a word of excuse he followed so quickly that before Robert could leave the office his cousin detained him with the words,'I am glad you happened to come.''Why, what's up?' demanded Robert a little sulkily. Here was another sin or complication or indiscretion, he thought, to

be added to that long list he had been drawing out as he paced through the mud and the snow to North-street. Here was, perhaps, the key to all the difficulties and disasters of his cousin's life. He had heard the old mot, 'Who is she?' and at once jumped to the conclusion that what he had never before
 suspected was the case. Here was the woman to whom his cousin must be either married or worse. In his smug self-sufficiency Mr. Robert McCullagh had already, in his own mind, preached a condemnatory sermon to, and read the whole Commination Service over, that blackest and most specious of sinners, Alfred Mostin.Something of this must have been expressed in the new partner's face; for Mr. Mostin, spite of his evident anxiety, laughed as he said,'You don't know who it is, then?''Know! How should I know?' asked Mr. Robert McCullagh, honestly indignant at the supposition implied.'The poets are right after all, and Love is blind,' remarked Mr. Mostin carelessly; 'yet I think if I were sweet on a young woman I should by some sign recognise her through a two-foot wall.''You don't mean to say--' began Robert.'Yes, I do,' was the answer.Almost involuntarily Robert took a step forward to the door of the sitting-room.'Stop a minute,' said Alfred Mostin; and he began systematically to lower the lights.Robert was not thinking in the least of his cousin at that moment, yet, as he watched him, he could but notice how Alf's hand trembled, how slow he was about his work, how dreamily abstracted he looked while he moved mechanically about his office.'He has been drinking,' decided this modern Pharisee, mentally thanking God at the same time he was not as this wretched publican.'How does she happen to be here--in your rooms?' he inquired, after a pause, sharply, and as one having a right to put the question.'If you want an answer, you must ask for one in a different manner,' replied Mr. Mostin, with an outward calmness which showed he was, from some cause or other, at a white heat.'I beg your pardon; I am sure I did not know I spoke offensively; only it seems so very odd.''Does it? Then perhaps you will be kind enough to walk down-stairs again, and return to whatever place you came from, and leave me to do the best I can for Miss Lilands--as best I can.''Alf, old boy, what is the matter with you?' said the younger McCullagh, in unfeigned astonishment.'What's the matter with you, rather?' returned Mr. Mostin. 'What do you mean by your insinuations and your remarks? Do you suppose she came here to see me--me? Has the partnership with Pousnett--which, by the way, I compassed--so turned your head, that you could entertain for a moment the detestable thought your words seemed to imply?''I meant nothing, on my word I did not,' said Robert humbly.Just for a second Mr. Mostin looked him over, then, remarking in an easy dispassionate manner, 'If I thought you had, I'd wring your neck,' he reentered the sitting-room, closing the door behind him.The minutes passed. In a very agony of expectation Robert waited, watching as he did so the now dimly-burning lights. After a short pause, there came from the next apartment the low hum of conversation. His sharpened ears could hear the soft notes of her voice, and the deeper tones of Mr. Mostin as he spoke shortly in reply.Evidently they were talking very earnestly. What could it be about? The young man was working himself up into a state of frantic excitement; a dozen times he had taken a stride towards the door with an intention of opening it; for the twentieth time he was pacing the office, moving restlessly from desk to stool, from stool to shelves: it seemed to him that night he grasped more of the poverty of Alf's surroundings than had been the case during all the years of their previous acquaintance. Sometimes he would pause and listen to the murmur of their conversation in the next apartment. What could they be saying? Ah, at last his cousin crossed the room, opened the door, closed it again, and advanced to where Robert stood, still waiting for him.'Have you got any money?' he asked.Alas, that was what he never possessed! Alack and well a day, that was usually the question with which Mr. Mostin either commenced or finished his best discourses. Money--most important and most accursed of all men's wants--would that the man who first invented you were doomed to pass

through, say, a single year of the straits Alf Mostin had known ever since he was old enough to contract debts and be sued for them!Robert was too seriously in earnest then to smile at his cousin's words, but afterwards he laughed contemptuously over the bare recollection of them.Money! Why, the fellow never had a sixpence; could not keep one; never knew what it was to be able to insert his fingers in his waistcoat pocket and produce a current coin of the realm, unless he had just borrowed it from some one less impecunious than himself!'I have some,' he said, in answer; 'how much do you want?''I suppose ten shillings would be enough,' conjectured Alfred Mostin; 'but the roads are in a deuce of a state, and I heard the cabmen were refusing fares this afternoon.''What are you talking about? Where are you going?' asked Robert, a little peremptorily.'I was going to see her home,' answered Mr. Mostin; 'but perhaps,' he added, 'you would like to do so?'For once in his life the fact of not having half a sovereign of his own proved too much for Mr. Mostin. If he had known from whom else to beg, borrow, or steal that sum, he would not have asked it from his cousin.'I!' repeated Robert, taken utterly by surprise, yet instantly strong in his sense of the proprieties. 'How on earth could I take her home? How, in fact, could either of us?''She is not fit to go alone,' said the other deprecatingly. 'Old Napier has knocked her over entirely. He has thrown up the case; told the girl a lot of nasty things, for which I should like to kick him, and for which I very probably shall some day; brought her up from Old Ford in this beastly weather to break her heart, and then coolly shows her out, to get back there again as best she can. I was just coming in when I ran up against her in the passage, crying as I don't think I ever saw a woman cry before. I made her come up here and sit down a bit and tell me the trouble, and now she does not know how to break the news to her mother.''What is it that has happened?' inquired Robert.'Come in, and I will tell you all about it. We can talk matters over, and see what is best to be done. This is my cousin, Miss Lilands,' he added, pushing open the door, and crossing to the fireplace, followed by Robert, whom he thus

lamely introduced. 'He is going to Old Ford, and we may as well drive there in the cab with him.'Poor Alf Mostin, who was ever ready to lie with so glib a tongue, whose commercial morals were of the very worst, and yet whose heart was of the truest     gold, who, looking down at the tear-stained face of that 'little girl,' as he mentally called her, was filled with the wildest indignation to think any woman should so be made to suffer!'I was telling him about Old Napier, and what a brute he is, and the shock you have had; and we will both of us do all and everything we can.''Ah, Mr. Napier said such dreadful things,' she answered, with a pitiful tremor about her lips; and then, all in a second, she paused and coloured up to her eyes: 'I think I have seen you before,' she murmured, with a little coy hesitation; 'the day you so kindly helped me. I was happy that day!' and she turned to Mr. Mostin, glad perhaps to hide her blushing face from Robert's gaze. 'Mr. Napier felt so sure we should win our case. He had taken counsel's opinion, and did not seem to entertain a doubt.''But what has caused him to change his idea?' asked Robert anxiously.'He has heard the report of the other side,' answered Miss Lilands. 'It seems poor mamma blinded herself to the fact there was another side, would see nothing except her own hopes and beliefs; and Mr. Napier is angry because he thinks she wilfully deceived him. O, I don't know how I am to tell mamma; it will kill her!' and Miss Lilands covered her face with her handkerchief, whilst the two men looked at each other in silence.At length Mr. Mostin spoke softly.'Go and get a cab, Bob.' He was himself again; he had forgotten another man would have to pay for the cab, in the relief of knowing for a certainty some one on whom he could rely owned enough to settle the most outrageous overcharge.'I will tell your mother, Miss Lilands,' he said, as Robert vanished to do his bidding. 'We must break it to her as best we can: and perhaps my cousin might find some other lawyer
 willing and able to take up the case and carry it through to a successful issue.'The words were hopeful, and as he spoke them Alf Mostin felt they had been dictated by a sort of inspiration; but Miss Lilands only shook her head.'You are so very kind,' she said, in her pretty graceful way; 'but there is nothing more to be done. I see quite clearly that poor mamma made some great mistake. We really had no right to the money. She hoped, and then she gradually got to regard her hopes as certainties. Only Mr. Napier need not have been so cruel. I am sure mamma never meant to deceive him or any one else, and we will pay him all we owe. He said we never would; but he does not know us, does not understand that we would rather starve than be dishonest.'O sweet frank eyes! O tender truthful voice! O heart which held no shifting sands of deceit, no guile, no equivocation! Small marvel that for a moment Alf Mostin's gaze sought the floor as he contrasted his own life of twisting and doubling with the calm honest innocence of the girl who sat beside his hearth.How even her tears seemed to brighten and glorify that humble room! How lovely any room would have appeared to this poor scampish sinner which framed her young beauty, her womanly tenderness, her charming wisdom! Ah, well! Alf Mostin knew no such good gift was in store for him; that, let the future bring what it would, it never could conduct him one step towards a wife like Janey Lilands.'Wrap your shawl well round you,' he said, when at length he heard his cousin's step on the stairs. 'No, allow me;' and he drew the wrap close about her soft white throat, fastening in the brooch securely.'I could wish,' he thought afterwards, 'women, all of them, did not regard me quite so much as their grandfather or their brother;' for she evidently did not mind the slight familiarity she certainly would have resented from another man; then he drew her arm within his own to conduct her down the difficult staircase, and handed her into the cab and took his place opposite to her, Robert following and seating himself beside his cousin.Almost in silence the journey was performed. They reached the cottage; the little maid opened the door and said,'Your mamma has been in a way about you, miss!'They all entered the parlour together, and then Mrs. Lilands, looking in her daughter's face, cried out instantly,'What has happened, Janey? What is wrong?'For answer Janey only cast herself on her mother's breast, and then Mr. Mostin spoke.He never afterwards could tell, neither could any of them

subsequently remember precisely, what he said, but he told the story somehow.Calmly enough Mrs. Lilands put her daughter aside, and stood erect listening to his words.She did not make a single comment or put a solitary question. When he had quite finished, she remained staring at him for about the space of time in which one could slowly count five; then she swayed back, and would have fallen to the ground but that Robert caught her.Another minute and Alfred Mostin had opened the hall-door and rushed out, leaped the paling, and was speeding through the darkness of that unknown neighbourhood for the nearest doctor.CHAPTER XIX.
A LITTLE DINNER.THE same evening which introduced Robert McCullagh junior to the household at Old Ford beheld his father nimbly proceeding to keep his appointment with Captain Crawford.Little cared he for the state of the weather. External influences did not affect him much. Even against the east wind he had nothing to say; rheumatism spared, and neuralgia passed him by; heat did not try him much; a good nipping frost was his delight, and next to that he revelled in snow. Enthusiastic were Mr. McCullagh's descriptions of the Clyde and Arran, the 'Craig' and Dumbarton, as seen when covered with snow under the sparkling sun.There was neither sun, moon, star, nor planet visible that evening when he walked along the London streets to the 'hawtel' presided over by his compatriot; yet he stepped out as briskly through the slush and mud as though the season had been June and the time midday.Briefly in the morning he intimated his intention of absenting himself from the family meal.'Ye needn't be putting my name in the pot for dinner today, Janet,' he observed, as he rose from breakfast. 'I'm asked to take what is going with a friend this evening.''Ye're falling in with a lot of friends lately,' answered Miss Nicol, making an attempt at jocularity which signally failed to impress Mr. McCullagh with the slightest idea of mirth.'So it seems,' he answered, likewise simulating a jovial manner.'An' I suppose we're not to know their names?' said Miss Nicol, suggesting by these words there was something going on poor Mr. McCullagh desired to keep far beyond the ken of his womenkind.'Have your own way of it, Janet,' answered Mr. McCullagh discreetly.'D'ye really mean to say ye are goin' out, and intend to leave no word to tell us where to find ye?''If ye put it in that manner, Janet, I'm bound to admit ye've spoken the truth. I am going out this evening to dine with a friend ye don't know, and whom it's no like ye ever will know. I suppose I may do as much, being of age, without asking your leave and license.''I'm sure ye needn't take any thought of me,' said Miss Nicol.'I'm very sure, Janet, I don't intend,' was the reply.After which exchange of courtesies Mr. McCullagh left the room; and if he had been gifted with long enough ears he would, as he went down the stairs, have heard Miss Nicol say to Effie,'He's just puffed-up pride,--swelled almost to bursting, as one may say, since those Pousnetts have taken notice of him.'Effie did not answer. At that precise period of her life she was
wrestling with the French language, and getting a good deal the worst
of the encounter; and perhaps it was for this reason that Æsop's
fable of the frog which desired to be as large as an ox recurred to
her memory. After tremendous difficulty--for as regarded all sorts of
learning she was as stupid as she was silent--the young lady had
managed to translate the parable and grasp its meaning. Would
Mr. McCullagh burst like the frog? Would Robert some day be of as
little account as she was then? Would something extraordinary happen?
Matters seemed to her to have been going very strangely lately; the
house was not like what it used to be, nor anybody in it. On the
previous morning, for a few minutes after Robert presented her with
the bracelet from Paris, life had looked a little brighter; but
Mr. McCullagh had soon taken the gilt off that bauble. He was so
afraid her being deceived concerning the intentions of a man he felt very sure would never marry her, that, when with a mere trace of pardonable pride and a mournful smile of feminine vanity--for, after all, Mr. McCullagh's relative, who chose to play the rôle of a creature well-nigh dumb, was really a girl--she exhibited the gift, he said,'Ay, ay; and so he bought you this--and a very bonnie present too! He must have paid a lot of money for it. Well, we know the old saying about a gowk and his gold being soon parted. Not that Robert's a fool, only he's a bit too fond of showing off. And I would not have ye too uplifted about this, Effie, consequently. It's a handsome thing, and one ye'll like

to keep and show to your grandchildren; but it means nothing, except that Robert's partner in a big house, and wants to 'mind ye of the fact. Where he "hangs up his hat" I expect there'll be a heap of things we never thought of.''I'm very sairten of that,' answered Effie, who, if she lacked many womanly qualities, was not destitute of a species of pride which served her in extremest need just as well as it might a queen: and, poor child, she took her bracelet away and laid it aside, and wept a few tears in the solitude of her bedroom, and marvelled why Robert could not like her enough to come a-wooing.'For I am very sure he has taken na ither fancy.'Buttoned up to his throat, and unwitting of the ' deil's own mess,' as he subsequently styled it, into which his first-born was walking, Mr. McCullagh made his way into Cheapside, and, disdaining to take omnibus for the short distance he had to go, wound his way in and out amid the mass of pedestrians that, in those days, before there was a railway terminus at the end of almost every street, thronged the City thoroughfares.All at once he caught sight of a tall figure strolling before him, a figure which seemed familiar. It was Mr. Pousnett, walking as calmly and deliberately as though the sun had been shining, instead of the gas-lamps blinking through dim glass in a vain attempt to light up the darkness of that damp and foggy night.Involuntarily Mr. McCullagh slackened his speed. He felt no desire to overtake the great man, whom he was much astonished to behold pacing homewards on foot, unaware Mr. Pousnett was extremely fond of taking pedestrian exercise in unlikely weather. He was smoking an admirable cigar; as usual he moved easily amid the crowd. With a species of fascination Mr. McCullagh followed his movements from Old Jewry up to Foster-lane, at the corner of which turning, a man, who stood there looking gloomily out on the human tide flowing along the wider thoroughfare, lifted his hat to Mr. Pousnett, and made a step forward as if he wished to speak to that gentleman, and then drew back ashamed.Mr. Pousnett, seeing the movement, stopped--he was always affable to his inferiors--and this individual looked as low in the social scale as the merchant stood high.As he paused and turned towards the man, Mr. McCullagh had no choice save to pass on, which he did without being perceived by his son's partner. The quiet 'hawtel' kept by a

'canny Scot' was situate in one of the many courts leading out of Fleet-street, and therefore, crossing to Paternoster-row, he soon, with his light active step, left Mr. Pousnett and his humble acquaintance far behind.'He's no so bad,' thought Mr. Cullagh; 'there's not many gentlemen would care to be seen talking to a person so down at the heels with Fortune as that chiel seems to be.'Which, indeed, that 'chiel' was--so down it did not appear very likely he would ever get in luck's way again.He had once been in Pousnett's house, which he left to 'better himself,' with the result that he was now standing shivering in a thin coat, and the wet soaking through his old boots, looking upon the traffic of Cheapside, which could neither harm nor benefit him, rather than go home to face the misery he had left there.'Well, Moorhall, and how are you getting on?' asked Mr. Pousnett, removing the cigar from his lips, and looking, when contrasted with the wretched creature before him, the very incarnation of well-clad, well-fed prosperity.'Just as badly as possible, sir,' was the answer.I am sorry to hear you say so. How is that?''It has not been for want of trying, sir,' replied the man, using one of those stock phrases the unfortunate and the impecunious and the ne'er-do-weel and the incapable are so fond of airing. 'Since I was foolish enough to leave you, sir, I am sure no man could have worked harder, or lived poorer than I have done, and I might just as well have stayed idle.''You did not "better yourself," then,' suggested Mr. Pousnett, in a tone which, if used by any other person, might have been mistaken for irony.'Better myself!' repeated the ex-clerk. 'Look at me, sir!' Which, indeed, was a most unnecessary request, as Mr. Pousnett had already done so from the crown of his old hat to the soles of his worn and broken boots. 'I have not another article of clothing in the world except what you see on me. For four-and-twenty hours I have tasted no food save a bit of bread. I started out this morning hoping to get some trifle to take home to buy a meal for my wife and children; but I have been refused every place I went, and when you passed, sir, I was just thinking whether I had not better go down to the Thames and throw myself in. Perhaps my family might find somebody to help them then.''It is very hard for you,' said Mr. Pousnett sympathetically.'And as if things were not bad enough, sir,' continued Moorhall, 'there was a man came in last night.''What sort of a man?' asked Mr. Pousnett, with a charming innocence.'Why, a bailiff, sir, and we without a bite in the house for ourselves, or a bed to lie on! As I asked the sheriff's officer, "What's the good of leaving him here? D'ye think we have got a gold-mine anywhere under the flooring?"''Where do you live?' asked Mr. Pousnett, possibly thinking it unnecessary to comment on this last utterance.'Hoxton, sir.''Give me your address--come this way;' and Mr. Pousnett walked with his former clerk up Foster-lane, and turned into the Post-office yard. Under one of the flickering gaslights he wrote down the name of the street and number of the house where Moorhall resided.'That is where we are now, sir,' said the man who had 'tried so hard,' striking, as such people always do, an unnecessary blow upon the nail which has already been driven quite as far 'home' as it can ever be. 'Where we may have to lay our heads a week hence, it is impossible to say.''Your landlord may take your furniture, if you have any,' answered Mr. Pousnett, as he deliberately closed his pocket-book; 'but he cannot, I apprehend, turn you out into the street without some sort of notice. Here is a trifle, and I will consider whether anything can be done for you. Do not thank me, please,' he added, cutting short the stream of gratitude, with which Mr. Moorhall was about to deluge him. 'Get home as soon as you can--good-evening;' and Mr. Pousnett, who, between these detached utterances, had been engaged in re-lighting his cigar, walked off, leaving his ex-clerk with half-a-sovereign clutched tight in his hand, and his heart trembling with a hope to which he almost feared to give house-room.'Perhaps he will take me on again,' Moorhall considered, 'though they used to tell me, once gone it was always gone with Pousnetts.'Meanwhile Mr. McCullagh pushed on towards the good inn he had recommended to Captain Crawford as kept by an honest north-countryman, Gavin Hay by name.It was not a house frequented by gentlemen from Auld Reekie or Glasgow, who, coming to town accompanied by their wives and daughters, desired a sort of boarding establishment

rather than a regular hotel. Mr. Hay would not have cared for that precise description of business.'Plenty of trouble,' he said, in summing it up; 'enfeenetessemal proofets and scarce a word of thanks.'No, Mr. Hay had been wise enough to establish a good comfortable inn for 'folk in trade,' and 'travellers,' and such-like, when he started in London some thirty years previously.'There's an opening,' was all he said when he laid out his plan; and so admirable an opening had it proved that there could rarely be found an empty bedroom in the house, while of 'chance dinners' Mr. Hay had to provide enough and to spare. He always kept a cook great in the preparation of Scotch dishes-dishes, indeed, which were then fast vanishing from tables even north of the Tweed: haggis, cock-a-leekie, singed (or as some delight to call it 'swinged') sheep's head, and other delicacies, the bare mention of which caused a smile of pleasure and anticipation to illumine the face of many a good man and true. Nothing in the way of foreign 'kickshaws' was attempted at Hay's; but as regarded plain roast and boil, the cooking of fish, the compounding of puddings, and those dishes which were the boast of Scotia's children, it was a house to be depended upon.'A dinner fit to set before a king,' was Mr. McCullagh's summary of the repast, when at length a stilton in fine condition was placed upon the table. 'I only wish, Captain, we were partaking of it upon the occasion of your return.''All in good time,' answered the officer, smiling a little wistfully.Who knew? He might never come back; and though he had desired to go, yet now, when the time was so close at hand, he seemed to see the chances more clearly, and to feel that, though glory was a fine word for those that lived to be illumined by its beams, it could not greatly benefit the man happed up in foreign soil, who would never more behold the day dawn nor the sun set, nor hear the huzzas of the multitude, nor read what the world said about his prowess.At that moment he was thinking, perhaps, of that morning, when troop after troop of brave fellows marched through London while the band played 'The Girl I left behind me.' How many would never march again nor return to any girl, no matter how dearly loved, how sorrowfully parted from!Well, it does not do for soldiers to think much about the other side of the picture; and almost without a pause Captain

Crawford added, 'I hope we shall soon settle the Russians; and then, Mr. McCullagh, you will remember your promise and ask me to dinner, won't you?''You may make your mind easy on that score,' was the reply; 'and if there's aught I can do or see to for ye while ye're away, why, just say the word, and I'll attend to what ye want.''Thank you,' said the officer. 'There is a matter I wish to talk to you about presently; as I told you yesterday, I need your advice.''And I'm sure, to the best of my abeelity--' began Mr. McCullagh, but there was scarce so genuine a ring in his voice as had touched Captain Crawford a minute before. 'Maybe he's in debt,' considered the Scotchman, 'and thinks I can help him to compound, or maylike he's going to borrow. Ay, ay, he'll turn out the same as a wheen of others--civil enough; because he wants to serve his own turn. I was just having my misdoubts about this dinner. I'll warrant he'd never have dipped his hands so deep in his purse for the pleasure of my company.'It is the fate, the evil fate, of such men as Mr. McCullagh to be subject to these terrible revulsions of feeling. Far down in their hearts lies the knowledge, that, though there may be much worthy of respect and deserving of all trust in the nature which can sell and buy and turn an honest penny, and think of shillings and consider farthings, still the best affections of humanity instinctively turn to persons who either cannot or are not compelled to make such mercenary matters their study. Just as the hop, it is said, follows the course of the sun, and does no good if its tendrils are thwarted in their desire, so, without doubt, everything which is good in us recoils from the mere worship of mammon merely as mammon, and rears itself in antagonism to the sordid pettiness of such a life as that led by the inmates of the old house just out of Basinghall-street.The one unspoken longing of Mr. McCullagh's life had been to be liked for himself--just for what lay inside his fleshy tabernacle--just for the only thing he could ever carry out of this world when that tabernacle was laid aside. He never wanted when he was young that any man should seek his company because he had 'laid five pounds by;' and he did not desire, now he was verging on the sear and yellow leaf, to be cajoled and flattered because he was worth Heaven and himself only knew how many thousands.He had taken a fancy to Captain Crawford, and it hurt his vanity to consider that officer cared no more for him than for the dirt under his feet, if only he could get 'Rab McCullagh, plain auld Rab, to sairve his turn.' Nevertheless he had, after a fashion, passed his word, and he did not mean to go back from it. If the young man wanted his help to the extent of fifty or even one hundred pounds he 'wouldn't be the one to deny him,' only no more takings-in of that sort for him; no more being seduced by the pleasant talk of one even of his own country folk, and the innocent smiling face of a pretty girl as partner.'No doubt he instructed her,' thought Mr. McCullagh bitterly; 'and if I'd chosen to make a bigger fool of myself even than I did, she wouldn't have hindered me of my fancy.''And now what's the trouble?' he said impatiently, when, the cloth being drawn, and dessert placed on the table; and all the 'implements' for a stiff tumbler laid ready to hand, the waiter, with a final agile whisk of his napkin, withdrew, and left the two gentlemen to their own devices. 'Just tell me what it is, fairly and frankly, and if it's in my power, ye'll no be beaten for lack of a friend in need.'Captain Crawford, who had been sitting in a brown study for some minutes previously, at this address lifted his eyes and stared at his guest in mute amazement.'I see, ye're loth to speak,' suggested Mr. McCullagh; 'but don't be blate. I tell ye fairly I'm disappointed, because it never crossed my mind ye was one of those couldn't make the two ends meet: still, if at all within my capacity, I'll stand by ye. Now I am all attention, and the words ye speak will go no further.'Again Captain Crawford regarded the speaker amazed.'He has a poorer head than I thought,' he decided; 'the wine'--not champagne, by the way--'has got into it. I wish I had not ordered any whisky.' Then in a moment, the true state of the case flashing across his mind, he cried out delightedly, 'Why, you think I am in debt, Mr. McCullagh!''And are ye not?' asked the Scotchman dubiously.'Good Heavens, no! I was once, some years ago. I was a fool, and fell among thieves. I had an awful time of it. I would rather live on dry bread, or die, because I could not get any bread at all, than go through it again. No; God be thanked, I am not in debt! If I were, I should not dine myself or ask any one else to dinner.''Then jest for a minit I wranged ye,' explained Mr. McCullagh simply; 'and for that reason, before ye go on, I'd like weel to shake hands, and ask your forgiveness. I am very sure I feel truly sorry.'With a frank smile, Captain Crawford extended his hand saying, even as he laid it in that of his new friend,'You have seen, I suppose, I do not leave England quite heart-whole.''Pousnett's,' suggested Mr. McCullagh.'And I wanted to feel I was engaged before I went away--''Lord, man! have ye thought over it coolly?''Thought over what, Mr. McCullagh?''Over what any of those young weemen will take to dress, let alone keep her. I have no single word to say against one of them; for pleasanter or more agreeable ladies never'--'figured on a floor,' Mr. McCullagh was going to add; but he substituted instead the phrase 'never walked. Still, they must have high notions, and would be aye thinking about the ease and luxury of their father's house, in the best domicile ye could give them. Ye see I'm very plain, Captain; I jalouse ye haven't a glut, so to speak, o' this world's gear.''I am not rich; but I have what I think should be enough to commence with, at all events.'Mr. McCullagh shook his head.'I'm not one with ye there,' he remarked. 'Ye see, ye'd have to begin where most people leave off, where, indeed, most folks never get to. Mr. Pousnett, I make no doubt, can afford to pour out money like water; but ye couldn't, or I am greatly mistaken in my conjecture; and when young ladies have been accustomed to spend, spend, spend, it is ill for a husband being forced to ask them to begin and save.''You speak feelingly, Mr. McCullagh,' observed the officer, not with much cheerfulness.'I speak from knowledge,' was the quick reply. ' If man or woman is to be ever economical, saving ought to be taught to boy and girl as soon as the alphabet. It's wonderful how young people follow after what they see if it's bad. Extravagant parents make extravagant children.''I do not think Mr. Pousnett's daughters are extravagant,' said Captain Crawford.'Maybe no,' was the cautious reply.'Mr. Pousnett himself is a man who can get as much value for sixpence as any person I ever met.''Likely; still I suppose ye can't consider it a libel if I say he gets through an awful lot of sixpences.''Not, I imagine, in proportion to what is expected from him.''Well, ye see, that all depends on what it may be that is expected, and who it is expects it.''He lives in a certain rank--''I'll no deny it,' conceded Mr. McCullagh.'And he is bound to keep up that rank.''What binds him?' asked the merchant.'The world, I suppose; but we need not go into that question,' he went on hurriedly, 'for it has little or nothing to do with the matter about which I wish to consult you. As I said before, I desired to have affairs put on some definite footing before I left England, and so I asked Mr. Pousnett's consent to his daughter's engaging herself to me.''Aweel?' asked Mr. McCullagh, as the Captain paused.'He said, in the most friendly way possible, that it could not be.''Then why did he no hinder ye running in and out amang them before mischief was likely to come of it?''That was a question I could scarcely ask him,' answered Captain Crawford. 'I did inquire, however, the nature of his objection.''Ay?' Mr. McCullagh uttered this monosyllable in a tone at once encouraging and inquisitive.'He said he had but one objection to me: namely, my want of means; that if I had even two thousand a year he would put no obstacle in the way.''Bless us all!' ejaculated the canny Scot,'even twenty hundred a year--why, that's the interest of forty thousand, in hard cash, at five per cent; and out of trade I'm doubting no one can make a safe investment at more nor three and a half or four at the outside. But I'm interrupting your story.''I pointed out to Mr. Pousnett,' continued Captain Crawford, 'that, although I did not possess two thousand a year, I had expectations (it is just on the cards that some day I may step into a handsome property). To which he replied, "Expectations will not provide daily bread, to say nothing whatever of luxuries."''He is right enough there,' remarked Mr. McCullagh.'No doubt; yet still, with my prospects and present means, I ventured to say I did not consider myself a wholly ineligible

suitor. I went into figures. I proved I had about seven hundred a year, besides a legacy, which has been lately left me, of ten thousand pounds.''Ten thousand pound sterling!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh.'Not ten thousand pounds Scotch,' laughed the officer. '"Now" I said to Mr. Pousnett, "how much ought that sum, well invested, to return per annum?" "Three hundred a year," he answered promptly; "and there you are with just half the income I consider necessary."''But wouldn't he do something towards keeping the pot boiling?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'No; he was most explicit on that point. If his daughters married poor men--and he considers any one poor who has only a trifle of two thousand a year--he will allow them a hundred and fifty pounds for dress--''For dress!' interrupted Mr. McCullagh, in a tone of horror, to which no description could do justice. 'For dress! And many a one has to pay rent and taxes, and live, and support a family, and keep a good face to the world on far less nor that.''I can see very plainly,' went on Captain Crawford, to whom it did not signify much what other people might or might not have to do,' that Mr. Pousnett wants neither to have nor to lose me. If my uncle were to die to-morrow unmarried or without a son, he would at once sanction the engagement; but as matters stand he will not hear of it. He says quite frankly that, whatever merits a pauper may possess, he does not desire to have him for a son-in-law.''It is just awfu' to think of so rich a man being that greedy after money,' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh.'I do not quite go with you in that opinion,' answered the officer. 'Mr. Pousnett is no more greedy than fathers in general. If you had a daughter I imagine you would want to know a good deal about ways and means before you allowed her to marry.''I think I'd like best to know the man that wanted her was honest and true,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'Ye think me hard, Captain, maybe, and that I've a liking to keeping a guid grip of the gear I've worked early and late to gather; but I declare to ye if I had a favourite daughter--and God Almighty alone can tell why, in His mercy, He withheld just that which would have been priceless to me--I'd rather give her to a man whose word was his bond, who could be trusted

to keep his promise, who was sober and moral and discreet, than I'd see her driving round Hyde Park in the handsomest carriage ye could show me.''Then in that, as in many other matters, Mr. McCullagh, you are an exception to most rules,' said Captain Crawford politely. He felt doubts as to whether the Scotchman's theory would be found to hold good when it came to what Mr. McCullagh called 'the bit;' but he did not consider there existed any necessity for him to enter into a controversy on that subject. 'At any rate,' he proceeded, 'it is quite decided Mr. Pousnett does not at present look with favour upon me as a future son-in-law; and what I want you to do for me is this--tell me how I am to make my legacy bring me in, say, a thousand a year before I am gray-headed.''I am sure I canna' tell ye,' answered Mr. McCullagh.'How did you make your own fortune?' asked the Captain.'Well, and that I canna' tell ye either,' was the reply, 'because it was done little by little. Here a small profit, there a big one; a judeecious investment, a bit of a fortunate speculation; living poor, working hard; sticking to business like a limpet to a rock; permitting no extravagance of any sort; never spending a penny if a farthing could serve the turn; looking after bawbees; seeing that those I employed did their work; not getting down-hearted if things went a trifle a-jee; not permitting myself to be too uplifted if the sun of prosperity shone upon me for a wee. There are few men, though I say it, who could have begun with nothing and worked up to my present poseetion.''I do not know where you would find another,' answered Captain Crawford heartily. He did not care twopence or half the money how Mr. McCullagh had made his 'pile;' but he had an idea he might learn from that gentleman how to increase his own store, just as many persons think, if brought into familiar contact with popular authors, they too may learn--Heaven save the mark!--how to write a successful book.'Now, if you were in my shoes,' he said insinuatingly, what should you do to increase that ten thousand pounds? You see, if I put it out on mortgage I sha'n't be doing much better than the man who, having one talent, buried it in a napkin. Then, on the other hand, as I am not a business man, I fear to lose the whole by putting any portion in some promis-

ing swindle. As if you were advising your son or your brother, Mr. McCullagh, advise me.''Weel,' drawled Mr. McCullagh slowly, 'there's a deal of money to be made safely out of Consols, pairteeculiarly at the present time. I know a pairson as has made a very handsome sum, during this last year. He just watched the market, and bought and sold according. There are always fools and needy folk that want to sell, and there are always ideots that, no matter what the price, want to buy. So, as ye ask my advice, I can honestly say I think, for a man as hasn't a notion of, business, nothing safer than Consols can be recommended. Ye have nothing to do except follow the quotations and instruct your broker. It is the easiest matter in the world.''And how the deuce, Mr. McCullagh,' asked Captain Crawford, 'am I, in the Crimea, to follow the quotations, and instruct my broker? When I am fighting the Russians, I shall have something else to do than watch the markets. Couldn't you, now,' this very earnestly, 'recommend me something safe and good to put my money in?''I could not really,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'If I was to advise ye I'd never know a sound night's sleep. I'd be waking up thinking, " How about Captain Crawford's legacy?" But why don't ye ask Pousnett to turn the amount over? My faith, he ought to be able, with his chances, to double it for ye in a twelvemonth!''I did ask him,' confessed Captain Crawford; 'and he said he had enough to do to take care of his own money without playing at pitch-and-toss with mine. I pressed him to allow me, say, ten per cent; and he laughed at me, and answered, "Ten per cent means bad security." "Even so," I answered; "I am content." And then he said decidedly "I'll have nothing to do with another man's money, Crawford, nothing whatever. In my business what I lose is mine, what I gain is mine. I could not be hampered even with ten thousand pounds that I felt any responsibility concerning."''Lord!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh. 'Yon's a wonderfuld man.''And then I come to you,' went on Captain Crawford bitterly; 'and you are in the same story, though you tell it somewhat differently.''Ye're a bit ower-sharp, my lad,' answered the Scotchman. 'Now I understand how matters are, give me a minute. Don't speak to me till I speak to you: I'm thinking.'With a sort of fascination Captain Crawford watched Mr. McCullagh while he was going through this feat. A dead silence reigned in the apartment; not a sound broke the stillness except the distant rattle of a cab, or the falling of a cinder on the hearth.Once Mr. McCullagh put his hand in his pocket, and, drawing out his 'mull,' refreshed himself with a great pinch of snuff; after which, apparently, his brain grew clearer,--for the wrinkles across his brow smoothed, the puckers about his mouth and nose, that so strongly increased his likeness to a sharp Scotch terrier, relaxed, his intent gaze at the leaping blaze at length wavered,--and then he turned to Captain Crawford, and said,'I think I have now got it into ship-shape.''That is good news,' answered the officer.'Bide a wee, bide a wee,' suggested Mr. McCullagh cautiously; 'wait till ye hear my proposition before ye express an opeenion. Ye'll, maybe, no be content, and ye might prefare the offer of a long percentage; but I can tell ye Mr. Pousnett is right enough, big interest does mean bad security.''And that is a rock I do not fear foundering on, with you as pilot,' said Captain Crawford.'No; ye sha'n't lose your fortune, even if I can't make ye another. Here, in a word, is what I'll do, if ye think well. Halve the ten thousand, and some fine morning, when Consols are going a-begging, we'll buy; and then, while ye are away, I'll watch them for ye, and when a profit is to be had, why, we'll have it. If stock goes up and down pretty often, something handsome may be got out of that; but still it may not fluctuate much, and should such be the case, ye mustn't be desappointed.''I will leave all to you with perfect confidence.''I thank ye; I'll not abuse your trust. And now with regard to the other moiety? Just lately, almost within the last few days, I have been turning a matter of business over in my mind. I think it may be made to pay; upon the other hand it may not. Now should ye look with favour upon my suggestion, I'll borrow five thousand from ye for one year, and I'll pay ye five per cent per annum for the loan of it; then whatever is made over and above, we'll go shares in.''But I do not think that would be fair to you,' said Captain Crawford. 'If I am to share the possible profit, I ought to take my chance of the possible loss.''No, ye oughtn't, my lad,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'What I am thinking about doing is for my own advantage, at least I hope it'll turn out so, and I make no scruple of telling ye the amount I have mentioned would be a convenience to me at the minute. I keep a certain sum in my business, and all my spare cash I have invested, in one way or another, profitably. Well, if I had to sell now it would be at a saicrefece, and the money as is burning your pocket will hinder my having to do that. If I wasn't far and above being solvent I wouldn't touch a penny; but I can make ye sure that, if I died to-morrow, ye wouldn't lose by me.''I don't want any security,' said Captain Crawford; 'your word is sufficient for me.''But it's not suffeecient for me,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'Business is business, and right is right. I hope I shall be able to do some good for ye and myself both. I know I'll try.''Why put any of the money in the Funds?' asked Captain Crawford. 'Why not invest it all in the speculation you speak of?''It's no a speculation exactly,' explained Mr. McCullagh; 'and as for why I don't take all your legacy, it's just because I couldn't use it. Very like I sha'n't need half of five thousand; and if I find such to be the case, I'll put it out in some way to yield a fair return.''I am quite unable to express my gratitude for your kindness,' said Captain Crawford.'Tuts!' cried Mr. McCullagh, 'ye needn't feel beholden to me for pleasuring myself; and now suppose we lay trade and money on the shelf, and enjoy ourselves. Hay's wheskie,' and Mr. McCullagh, at this juncture, laid a loving hand on the square decanter filled with an amber-coloured liquor, 'is jest undeniable. Except my own, which ye must taste before ye go, there's no better speerit to be gotten south of the Border.'CHAPTER XX.
ALF MOSTIN'S MISSION.THE snow fell thick, and lay long, in the beginning of 1855. It was a wretched season, cold, dark, cheerless, foggy, miserable. In the side-streets people had to proceed along a sort of narrow gangway, formed between two high banks of frozen filthy snow; for many days the main thoroughfares were curiously still by reason of the fact that cab and omnibus traffic proved a simple impossibility. There were times when a man could not see his hand before him--periods when both feet were seized with a perfectly independent power of locomotion, and landed their possessor ignominiously on the slippery pavement.It was on a chill dull morning towards the end of January that Alf Mostin wended his way westward through the dismal streets. He did not find walking particularly easy, but he felt it was of no use waiting for the sky to clear and the thoroughfares to be cleaned; those whom necessity compelled to be out trudged along with dogged perseverance, coats buttoned up to the throat, hands plunged deep in pockets, comforters drawn up over the mouth; feeling existence presented an extremely gloomy aspect, and that there was little prospect of it ever seeming any brighter.Amongst the rest Mr. Mostin walked westward, vià Fleet-street, the Strand, King William-street (Charing Cross), Leicester-square, and so to Piccadilly. He had business entirely of his own making at a fashionable old-established family-hotel, situate in a street off the last-mentioned thoroughfare; and he wondered, as he went along, whether he should find it very difficult to obtain an audience with the gentleman he was about to visit.A less likely-looking man to gain instant admittance into one of the private rooms of an exclusive and expensive hotel, it would have been difficult to find. He had an unbrushed, unkempt, uncared-for look, as marked as indescribable; and it was not to be wondered at that, when he left the domain of

business and entered a region devoted more to the spending of money than its acquisition, he should look askance doubtfully at his apparel, and marvel whether it might not have been better to trim himself up a little ere setting forth on such an unwonted expedition.'Hang it, no!' he decided at last. 'Unless I could rig myself out altogether afresh from head to foot, where would be the good? I don't look shabby genteel, at any rate; that is some comfort.'To a person of his temperament there was much comfort in this reflection. The threadbare garments of poor respectability carefully brushed; the old shirt neatly mended, and frayed collar stiffly starched; the worn patched boots highly polished; the hat sponged and rendered supernaturally glossy--had he been arrayed in things like these all the courage would have oozed out of his finger-ends.As matters were, if he looked rough, he felt ready, nevertheless; and though he did not much relish facing the difficulties he knew would meet him on the threshold, he consoled himself with the reflection that he bore no resemblance to typical begging-letter or other plausible impostor. No man ever could have thought of playing on the credulity of the rich who wore such a hat, bad in itself, and which seemed as though, since first bought, it had been persistently brushed the wrong way. He felt such strength in the thought of that hat, he to it off and gazed affectionately at his head-covering.'If once I can get speech of the man, I don't care,' he said, half aloud; 'and I think they will let me in.'The idea, however, of doing so seemed to be the very last on earth entertained by the portly waiter to whom Mr. Mostin addressed himself. At one comprehensive glance he had taken in the personnel of this obtrusive individual, who wanted see one of their most highly-esteemed customers.Yes, he conceded, Mr. Lilands was stopping at that hotel; but he did not know whether he had risen, and he felt quite confident he could not be seen.'I want to speak to him on particular business,' said Alf Mostin, feeling very hopeless, and waxing proportionately indignant.'Have you an appointment?' asked the waiter, in a tone of pitying contempt.'No, I haven't,' snapped Mr. Mostin.'Then you had better get one.''Do you mean to say you are not going to ask Mr. Lilands
 if he will see me?''It is impossible that I can disturb Mr. Lilands at present.''At what time do you think it possible you could disturb him?' inquired Mr. Mostin.'That is a question it is quite out of my power to answer.''Then all I have to remark is, that if you keep me waiting here much longer, or send me away without informing Mr. Lilands I wish to see him, you will find cause to repent your insolence.'There is a great deal in thorough conviction; and Alfred Mostin had worked himself up to such a state of mind, that for the moment he did so truly believe he could make the waiter rue his impertinence, that the man, seized with a sudden doubt of the soundness of his position, wavered visibly.'You will be kind enough,' went on Mr. Mostin, pressing the advantage thus gained, and fixing his opponent with a threatening eye, 'to take my card up to Mr. Lilands, and say I am here to speak to him on most important business. Wait a moment,' he added, as the waiter. actually took the card, which had lain in the recesses of Alf's pocket-book till it had become stained and discoloured with time; ' I will just write a line on it;' and, so saying, he pencilled below his name--which was, indeed, almost illegible--the words, 'From Mr. Napier.''I wonder if that will do the business,' he considered; 'also why, all the time I have been cudgelling my brain how to obtain an audience, I never before thought of making use of the old scoundrel?'And then, standing quite at his ease, Mr. Alfred Mostin, satisfied he had at last played a trump-card, remained coolly contemplating the so-called decorations of the hall and stair-case, while he waited for the return of his enemy.With an expression of calm superiority, as one who would say, 'I have now got the best of you,' that individual at length came leisurely from the upper regions. He held a morsel of paper in his fingers, which he handed in a lofty sort of 'I told you so' way to Mr. Mostin, observing,'Mr. Lilands desires me to give you the address of his solicitors, and to say that any communication from Mr. Napier of which you may be the bearer had better be addressed to them.''O!' ejaculated Mr. Mostin, drawing in his breath--then,'Before I leave here I wish you would just take this up to Mr.

Lilands;' and scribbling on a leaf of his pocket-book the information, 'As it is imperative I should see you personally, I shall wait in the street until you come out. Had you not better let me come up-stairs? he twisted up the note and intrusted it to the waiter, who, reading the missive ere delivering it, arrived at the conclusion the 'imperent' and pertinacious individual below was not a dun, but some one with a writ.'Confound the fellow!' exclaimed Mr. Lilands, who, perhaps, entertained some idea of the same sort; 'show him up.'Whereupon up accordingly Mr. Alfred Mostin was shown.He found Mr. Lilands in a handsomely-furnished room, seated beside a table on which was spread everything a gentleman could desire, and many things a gentleman could never have desired, in the way of breakfast. He did not in the least resemble the person Alf Mostin expected to see. In the first place he was much older--that is to say, he was over forty--he had a pleasant face, though a cloud of annoyance rested on it at the moment, and an agreeable manner, despite of the fact that he evidently viewed the appearance of his visitor with small satisfaction.'You can go,' he said to the waiter; 'and shut the door after you. Now, sir,' he added, turning to Alf Mostin, when both mandates had been obeyed, 'what is it? Why has Mr. Napier sent you to me?''He did not send me!' answered Mr. Mostin audaciously.Mr. Lilands looked at the card which had been brought to him, and then at the man who stood before him, but he did not speak a word. Nevertheless, his attitude and his very silence seemed waiting for an explanation.'I have not come from Mr. Napier,' said Alf Mostin; 'but I live in the house where he has his offices, and as I meant to get speech of you somehow, and as that self-sufficient idiot would not carry up a civil message, I made use of Mr. Napier's name.''A somewhat cool proceeding,' remarked Mr. Lilands.'Admittedly; but it was better, perhaps, than knocking our portly friend into a cocked-hat, which I felt very much inclined to do. And now I may as well tell you I am not a lawyer's clerk, and I am not here to ask any favour from you for myself (O poor Alf, what a ring of triumph, what a cry of exultation, there was in your voice as you spoke those words!). 'I have only come to tell you something I am sure you ought to

know, to plead the cause of one who has no thought or power of pleading for herself.''If that person be Mrs. Durham Lilands--' began that lady's relative.'That person is not Mrs. Durham Lilands,' interrupted Mr. Mostin, 'and your liking for her can't be less than mine; though, indeed, if you saw her now--''What, then? what if I saw her now?' asked Mr. Lilands.'I think you would pity her;' and then, in a few words, Mr. Mostin told the events which had happened on that night when he ran for a doctor.'She may live for many years,' he finished; 'but she will never be right again.''She never was right, as you call it,' amended Mr. Lilands.'She must have been always an unpleasant sort of party, I think,' capped Alf Mostin heartily; 'but she is now helpless, and that ought to take a good deal of the sting out.''I thought you had not come here to plead her cause,' suggested the gentleman who sat at home at ease.'Nor have I; but I don't feel at all comfortable about intruding upon you at this moment. I should like to go away, and leave you in peace to finish your meal. Say I come back in an hour; will you give me your word I shall not be denied admittance?'Mr. Lilands laughed.'No time like time present,' he said. 'Have you had breakfast?''Two--three hours,' was the answer.'Then, if you will excuse me, I should like to proceed with mine. I shall listen attentively to anything you may be kind enough to say, Mr.--''Mostin,' supplied the other promptly. 'Alfred Mostin.''I beg your pardon; and now, Mr. Mostin, will you kindly take a chair and proceed?'Perhaps Mr. Lilands, with all his knowledge of the world, was not exactly prepared for what followed.Thus invited, Mr. Mostin cast his eyes about him for the very easiest chair he could find, pulled it up to the table, rested one arm on the cloth, and began.He told how he had first seen Miss Janey, the days--the wretched rainy, snowy, foggy, sloppy days--he had known her traverse the City streets. He told the story of her sunny hope, her sweet patience, her thorough belief in the ultimate success

of their cause; yet did not fail to mention how ready she would have been at any time to relinquish the 'great suit' if only 'mamma' had proved willing to make the best of their limited means. The poor dress; the inexpensive bonnet; the neatly-fitting, but much-mended, gloves; the pleasant face that seemed to light up North-street as she came to Mr. Napier's--he spoke of all these things slightly, yet with a tender respect and reverence which touched the man he addressed as no set and elaborate form of words could have done.But when Mr. Mostin began to speak of the tears the old lawyer had made the girl shed; when he described her broken-hearted grief, the effect Mr. Napier's cruel words produced, her passion of sorrow concerning her mother's disappointment, her one great trouble seeming only to be 'how to break it to mamma,' Mr. Lilands could but notice how the expression of his visitor's face changed with anger, and feel there must be something true and noble about any woman, pity for whose sorrow could strike sparks of fire out of so cool and easy-going a personage as he who sat in one of the best chairs of that grand hotel, with the rough sleeve of his shabby coat resting carelessly upon the snowy damask which covered the table.'So far as I can gather from old Napier's people,' finished Alf Mostin, 'if, or when, her mother dies, the girl will be left with nothing, or next to nothing. Now I think it would be but just and kind on your part to make some settlement upon her. She is not fit--I declare to you upon my honour--she is not fit to battle with the world. Out of the amount you have inherited from her grandfather a couple of hundred a year would be a mere trifle, and yet it would make all the difference to her. She will have an invalid on her hands so long as the old lady lives. What I came to tell you was this--that I am quite sure you will be a happier man if you settle the sum I have named upon her and pay Napier's bill; or rather let me pay it for you, as I could make the old rascal give me a receipt in full for about half the amount he claims.''No one can accuse you of undue modesty,' observed Mr. Lilands.'Nor of indifference, if any word of mine can avail to help a girl placed in so sad a position,' was the quick reply.'You ignore totally the amount of annoyance her mother has given, and the expense to which she has put, me.''She is not her mother; she is your own blood-relation, and one of whom any man on earth might be proud. Her place

is here, amongst such surroundings as your own; if you saw her you would say it was a sin and a shame to set her grace and beauty in such a poor frame. I should like to think of her as the mistress of some beautiful house far away in the country, a happy wife, an honoured lady, associating with her equals, loved and admired by all with whom she came in contact.'Mr. Lilands set down his cup, which at that moment he was carrying to his lips, and looked at the speaker in astonishment; then suddenly, light dawning upon him, he exclaimed,'I understand. So that was the motive with which you came! It is impracticable, however. In the first place, I am married already; and in the second-but I do not think I need give any other reason.''Well, no; it is not necessary,' agreed Alf Mostin.'As to your suggestion of settling something on Miss Lilands, I am willing to consider the matter. As you say, truly enough, she is not her mother, and she is my relation; and if her mother had only played her cards a little better, there is not the slightest doubt but she might have got the General to leave her all there was in his power to will. It would not have been right, because undoubtedly the money ought to belong to us. In a family famous for black sheep, Durham Lilands was the blackest. He wasted his own patrimony; he made a marriage distasteful to his connections; he dragged the name through mire with which the other black sheep had not contaminated it; and finally he left a widow, who managed to separate the General from his friends, and, as I have said, might, if she had not drawn the reins at last too tight, have got him to will everything he could will to her.''But she did not,' put in Mr. Mostin practically.'She thought she had, though,' answered Mr. Lilands. 'And see the amount of trouble she has given me since. She has been to lawyer after lawyer, and, by telling each only one side of the story, induced first one and then another to take up her case. Of course I have had to pay, and shall have to pay, my solicitor's heavy bills, incurred over this matter; and then there is the annoyance. No, Mr. Mostin, when I remember the ,way in which Mrs. Durham Lilands has conducted herself, I do not feel disposed to do anything from which she may even indirectly derive advantage.''God help the girl, then!' said Alf Mostin. 'O sir, make, at all events, some provision for her in the event of her mother's

death! Do not let her become dependent upon the mercies of this world for daily bread!''May I, without offence, ask you a question, Mr. Mostin?''Yes, certainly.''Who and what are you that take so great an interest in my cousin's welfare?''You have propounded two questions,' said Mr. Mostin; 'but I can make one answer serve for both--I am an unlucky devil.''I beg your pardon,' began Mr. Lilands, astonished, and perhaps scandalised. I scarcely understand--''Don't you? And yet the explanation is simple enough. There is nothing I put my hand to ever succeeded or ever will succeed. If I were to turn shoemaker, people would take to going barefoot. I am a man who I suppose ought to have got on in the world; but I have not, and I never shall. If opportunities come in my way, I cannot avail myself of them. When I could, they do not come. That is the state of the case: I need not enlarge upon it.'Have you a large family?''You see its extent.''You are not married, then?''No; and I never have been, and I never shall be.''Why don't you marry? A good wife might keep you straight.'Mr. Mostin laughed. 'I don't want to be kept any straighter than I am,' he answered; 'and as for a wife, if I were to take one she would prove a termagant, or go off in a decline, or run away from me, or fall to drinking, or else she would break her heart when she found the sort of life she had bound herself to lead. No, I won't tempt my ill-luck to the extent of asking any woman to share it.''But-pray excuse another question-are you quite sure the ill-luck of which you speak is not at all of your own making?''It may be. My "best friends" of course say it is.''And could you not in any way change the current?''I might-from bad to worse.''I meant from bad to good, by turning over what is popularly termed a "new leaf."'Alf Mostin shook his head. 'No,' he said slowly; 'every page to the end of the volume will be about the same, I take it. For nearly thirty years I never thought so much about myself as

during the course of the last three months'--('Ah, I imagined as much,' considered Mr. Lilands)--'and the conclusion at which I arrived was, that as one can't wash a blackamoor white, so there is no use trying to alter a nature like mine. I believe I was sent into the world to point a moral, though not to adorn a tale--to enable respectability to thank Heaven it is not as that poor waster, Alfred Mostin. And having said so much, Mr. Lilands, I think I will not intrude upon you any longer. I might be tempted to speak words you are not accustomed to hear.''It is a bad plan, I am afraid, to quarrel with respectability.''It may be,' answered Mr. Mostin; 'but at any rate, I fancy it was respectability first quarrelled with me. If, however, you will settle something on your cousin, I shall at once try to believe it possible for a rich man to be better than I have ever thought one.'With which promise Mr. Mostin, after bowing to Mr. Lilands, walked out of the room and down into the hall, where the portly waiter honoured him with a stony stare, which he returned with a glance of mocking derision exceedingly trying to that functionary.'I think he'll do something for her,' considered Mr. Mostin, as he paced Cityward, referring, not to the waiter, but to Mr. Lilands; 'and if then she can only be induced to leave London and get out of Robert's way, she may have some happiness yet. But I am afraid--O, I am sorely afraid, my dear, you consider him handsomer than he is, and think more highly of him than he deserves. I wonder if she would be charmed with the old man?' Which idea opened so wild a field of conjecture that it served him with food for meditation almost all the way back to North-street.When, after ascending that treacherous flight of stairs, he unlocked his office door, he saw a slip of paper lying on the floor.'Think of the--' he exclaimed aloud, as he looked at the few words pencilled upon it. 'Only to think of old McCullagh, of all people on earth, coming here of all places in the world! "He'd be obliged if I'd step round"--would he?--"and he won't be out the whole of the day." What the deuce can he want with me? Has he heard anything about dear good Mr. Snow, or can any nasty little bird have gone whispering to him about the way things I am afraid are tending at Old Ford? Not that I should mind much if a little bird had, for

she ought to look higher than Bob, Pousnett's partner and serf though he be. Shall I go? No, I won't. Yes, I will, or else auld Rab will be making tracks here again.'It was not, however, either about Miss Lilands or Mr. Snow: Robert's father desired a 'wee word' with Alf Mostin.'I take it kind of ye,' he said, chancing to encounter his visitor in the hall. 'Step in, will ye? Step in;' and leading the way to his private office, he pushed open the door and bade Alf enter.'It is something quite out of the common, or he would not; bring me here,' considered the younger man. 'I should like, to have some hint as to what is in the wind now.'He was not kept long in suspense, for Mr. 'McCullagh immediately began.'I've been thinking, Ailfred, that ye could maybe do me a good turn.'Even whilst answering he was very glad to hear it, Alfred Mostin considered the many good turns Mr. McCullagh had refused to do him.'And ye might aim a trifle for yourself.'Quite sincerely Mr. Mostin intimated that any trifle would be acceptable.'Well, it's jest this, ye see: there's a new firm started up in the Scotch trade, and I want to know all about it. You're one of those as is in and among every sort of folk, and I make no doubt ye could ascertain what I wish to learn without "letting on," remember, or telling onybody I am the least put out about the affair.''I understand,' said Mr. Mostin, who was not perhaps quite so sorry as he ought to have been to hear Mr. McCullagh had at last found an opponent.'And ye'll no make any mention of it to Robert.''I'll say nothing about the matter to any one.''I do not mind spending a pound, or even two, if I could just know for certain who Upperton & Co. may be.''Where's their place of business?' asked Alfred gaily.'In the Minories.''Humph! in the heart of the shipping trade. Well, I will see what I can find out, and let you know;' with which assurance Mr. Mostin went his way, regretting as he went he had not asked Mr. McCullagh for ten shillings on account, as 'earnest money.'CHAPTER XXI.
EFFIE SPEAKS OUT.JANUARY has merged into February, and February given place to March. Out in the country districts the sap was rising, and a pleasant stir of greenery pervaded the land, whilst in Basinghall-street the sun at intervals shone brightly, making itself felt even in the pent-up court where Mr. McCullagh had lived during so many prosperous years, causing the hearts of dingy sparrows to rejoice, and revealing every bare place in the shabby old carpets, which had not been renewed since the Scotchman brought home his wife, and showing every piece of useful embroidery as represented by patch or darn Miss Nicol's housewifely fingers had wrought in curtains and chair-covers and tablecloth.Judging from Mr. McCullagh's face, however, this agreeable change in the weather had not produced a corresponding effect upon that gentleman's mind. He had not looked gloomy in December, or anxious in January; but in the pleasant spring sunshine of an afternoon in March his expression seemed to indicate the fact that his mental barometer was at anything save 'set fair.'In truth, he felt as he himself would have said, 'sorely put about.' If it were true that no man had ever worked much harder, or lived much more economically, than himself, it was also undeniable that few persons in business had ever experienced less harass in his trade than the merchant who had risen so fast and done so well. Hitherto he had been in the enviable position of having the market all to himself; and like every one whom Fortune has favoured, he believed he owed his prosperity less to her kindness than to some extraordinary merit and capacity on his own part. Actually he had felt so sure of himself, so satisfied that the Scotch trade in provisions meant Robert McCullagh and none other, that even the very notion of competition never entered his mind until Mr. Pousnett's slight reference to such a possibility came like a jarring discord across the harmony of nearly thirty years' success.Then it certainly did occur to him that the world was 'getting throng;' that railways had set many more brains at work upon the old problem of how to make a living than formerly exercised themselves in leaving old tracks and seeking new ones; that, considering the rapidity of modern travelling, it was strange no house north of the Tweed had thought of opening a branch establishment in London, and so securing a portion of the profits Mr. McCullagh had hitherto monopolised.Mr. Pousnett's suggestion--thrown out so airily, yet with such an air of conviction--that a rival or rivals must eventually rise up, had not proved seed cast on barren soil. His words stamped themselves on Mr. McCullagh's brain--interfered with the satisfaction hitherto derived from the 'best of orders,' mingled with the flavour of his morning porridge, took the strength out of his nightly 'tumbler,' woke him from sleep in a great fright, and pursued him as he walked to and fro the City streets he had hitherto paced without fear of any competition. Even before the eventful New Year's-eve he had almost decided to take the 'fore-way' of any marauding campaigner; while during the agonies of that headache from which Captain Crawford's prescription had but partially relieved him, he felt while 'any trade' remained he would fight to keep it.With this laudable purpose he wrote in hot haste to his third son David, whom he had sent--the lad being considered a 'pushing sort of chap'--to a place very far north in Scotland, where he thought he might obtain such an insight into the manufacture of marmalades, jams, confectionery, and articles of the same description as would enable him hereafter to start on his own account in the country of his 'forbears.' All of a sudden, however, his father decided David's energies would be better employed in London. Like many other lesser and greater persons, Mr. McCullagh did not care to invest those belonging to him with independent power; and as he had hitherto limited his suggestion of the 'caupital' he should feel disposed to find to a hundred, or at most two hundred, pounds, David wisely contented himself by staying in a situation at seventy pounds a year.'Man, had onybody offered me a hundred pound sterling when I was your age?' thought Mr. McCullagh often, but he spoke no word of reproach. In the inmost recesses of his heart he perhaps derived comfort from the consideration that the creation of such an individual as 'auld Rab' was not a too frequent freak of Nature.'I'll just put him into another place as my deputy,' considered Mr. McCullagh, who had no fancy for 'taking off his clothes before he went to bed,' or, in other words, making his sons independent of him by means of the money for which he had worked so hard.'Sound your employers,' he wrote, 'and see how soon they could spare ye. Tell them I have a notion I should be able to make ye useful to me here, and that I think ye must have now learned about all they can likely teach ye.'To this Mr. David McCullagh replied that, to oblige his father, Messrs. Aberdeen, Dundee, & Co. were willing to forego the advantages of his services at once. Indeed, so compliant did the firm prove, that the young man appeared in Basinghall-street within a fortnight after the date of his letter.Then in very deed Mr. McCullagh set about his new undertaking. Already he had rented a warehouse; already carpenters and other tradesmen were making it fit for the reception of Scotch goods; already those goods were being packed in the
land o' cakes; already circulars, addressed to shippers and others, were printed, announcing that their orders could now be supplied from Crutched Friars; already Mr. McCullagh was chuckling over the idea that, if the notion of stealing away a part of his connection had 'crapped up in onybody's mind, he would find himself a wee mista'en,' when suddenly one of his customers asked him if he knew a firm, dealing in the same articles as he himself sold, had opened a big place in the Minories, and seemed meaning to 'carry everything before them.'Mr. McCullagh, though he might, as he afterwards affirmed, have been 'knocked down by a feather,' received this intelligence like a man, and answered it with some jocose and sportive utterance, which under the circumstances passed for 'wut.'It was a cruel blow, and one to which the remembrance of long years of prosperity failed to reconcile him. He had made the trade. He it was who had taught inappreciative cockneys the delights to be derived from a close acquaintance with Scottish 'haddies' and relishes, with piles of shortbread and dainty potted meats; he had shipped indigestion by the hundred-weight, not to say ton, disguised as 'sweeties,' and sold under various forms of confectionery; and he felt it was hard to have another step in and share the crop he had sowed. Mr. McCullagh could have wept, could have sworn, could have sat down

and lamented his day; but as he was not a man given to any of these three exercises, he simply put on his hat, and walked round to North-street to invoke the aid of that mauvais sujet, Alfred Mostin.That was towards the end of January, and now it was March; and he knew no more about the firm of Upperton & Co. than he did when first their name was mentioned to him.With one excuse and another Ailfred had put him off.'I'm almost disposed to think they have bought him,' considered Mr. McCullagh rather unreasonably, since buying Alfred Mostin would have proved a by no means profitable transaction to any one. He had nevertheless sat down that morning to breakfast with this conviction; and after a visit to North-street, where he again failed to find the reprobate, he returned to his warehouse in very bad spirits. Upperton & Co. were carrying all before them; they were underselling him to the tune of fifteen per cent. Mr. Pousnett had sent to know if he, Mr. McCullagh, could supply a large shipping order at that amount under list-prices; and on his replying in the negative, he received a regretful note enclosing Upperton's quotation for the same articles.'It is just dreadful,' groaned poor Mr. McCullagh, 'to have the very bread taken out of my mouth.'He had written to the Scotch firms with whom he dealt, laying a 'plain statement' of the ' case as it stood' before their understandings. He reminded them of the time he had dealt with them; of how he had risen from small beginnings; of how he had wrought 'early and late;' of how he had been aye honest and careful, and no man had ever lost a penny by him; and he finished by entreating indirectly that they would not aid or abet the iniquity of Upperton & Co., a 'house nobody knows anything about,' 'that sprung up in a night like a toad-stool,' by countenancing their underhanded ways and supplying them at the 'word of command' with goods.To which the Scotch firms one and all replied that they quite felt with their esteemed correspondent, that they sympathised with his indignation; but that at the same time it was impossible for them to deviate from the usual rules of business; and that while willing and anxious to help their old customer by every means at their command, they did not feel themselves justified in turning ready money away.This was the last straw. Upperton & Co. dealt for ready money, a thing even Mr. McCullagh was not in the habit of

doing. Then it was this camel felt his back broken; then he said to himself, next they will be selling on credit, which was precisely, so a good-natured friend informed him, what they were doing.'I may shut up,' sighed plain auld Rab. 'I may jest let the business I've nursed to maturity be struck down at a blow; and there's the Captain's five thousand I've invested in premises and stock, and that I'm surety for; and there's that weary Davy I was so left to myself as to bring south to craze my life out; and there's that spendthrift Ailfred Mostin I was ideot enough to trust. All my troubles are crowding upon me at once, now I'm getting old, and no so able to bear them; and--Who's that? No; I canna see anybody, Roy.''It's no Roy--it's only me,' said Effie, opening the door sufficiently to admit her head, which was covered with a bonnet.'It's only you, is it?' retorted Mr. McCullagh crossly. 'But you're a body, aren't ye? and I said I could see naebody.''I merely wanted a word with ye,' pleaded Effie.'Well, well, let's hae done wi' 't, then!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh sharply.Thus encouraged, Effie came quietly in, closing the door softly after her. She looked as dejected as ever, but Mr. McCullagh could see, by her slightly-heightened colour and an unusual light in her pale eyes, she was labouring under some excitement.'I have just come from my music,' she remarked. It was a custom in that house to omit if possible the word most persons would have appended to the end of a sentence.'Ye didn't want to see me to tell me that, I suppose,' observed Mr. McCullagh querulously.'Mrs. Olfradine's going to give up teaching.''Why, how's that?' inquired Mr. McCullagh.'She doesn't like it; and she can't get pupils enough to keep her.'I'm no surprised,' was the dry comment.'So I've had my last lesson,' proceeded Effie.'From her; but I suppose some other woman is to be found who doesn't mislike teaching, and--can teach?' appended Mr. McCullagh.'I'm no for any more music,' said the young lady doggedly.'Presairve us! and why not?''I don't care for it; I am not getting on a bit. I'll never be able to play like those young ladies ye talked about; and Mrs. Olfradine says without a natural taste it's no use hoping ever to be profeecint.''It's a pity she hadn't found that out sooner,' commented Mr. McCullagh. 'It'd have saved me a good few pounds; but it's ill greetin' ower spilt milk. And as ye've said your word, ye can leave me, for I'm busy, as ye see.'As there was no sign of business being about, Effie must have been remarkably sharp-sighted if she had seen anything of the sort. Perhaps this was the reason she remained for a moment after her dismissal, rubbing a slow forefinger backwards and forwards along the rail of a chair beside which she stood.'Well, what's it now?' asked Mr. McCullagh with an ill-concealed irritation which might have daunted an apparently bolder spirit than Effie.She, however, without taking the slightest notice of his manner, abstractedly continued her rubbing exercise while she answered, in her low wearisome monotone,'Mrs. Olfradine has taken a shop--''I don't care what the deil she has taken,' interrupted Mr. McCullagh.'And she wants me to go and help her.''To go and help her,' he repeated, now thoroughly amazed.'And I've promised that I will.''O, ye've promised that ye will, have ye?''Ay,' agreed Effie mournfully.'Ye might have first asked my consent, I'm thinking,' said Mr. McCullagh, now thoroughly indignant. 'For a matter o' five year I've fed, boarded, and clothed ye; and I conceder the least ye might ha' done was to say may I or mayn't I. However, if ye like to be a shop-girl it's no concern o' mine; if ye think Mrs. Olfradine '11 do better for ye nor I've done, ye'd far better go to her. The sooner the better, Effie. As this house is no good enough for ye, I'd lose no time, if I were you, in seeing how you like hers.''There's no need for ye to put yourself out because I want to earn my own living,' remonstrated the fair Euphemia.'Ye're right there--not a bit--quite the contrary.''I thought I had best tell ye, ye know,' suggested Effie. I'm obliged, I'm sure. I hope ye didn't put yourself to

any inconvenience about the matter,' answered Mr. McCullagh with mock politeness.He was really hurt. According to his lights he had done well for the girl. He allowed her two new dresses a year; paid for her schooling; never grumbled about those music-lessons, which only resulted in such performances as have been hinted at in these pages; had 'aye' treated Effie with kindness, and caused her to fare no worse, as regarded diet, than he would have expected a daughter of his own to do; and now, at a word from a stranger, she took it upon herself to go out as a mere shop-girl, seeming pleased at the prospect of standing behind a counter, and getting well away from Basinghall-street and its master.'I must speak to Janet about this,' he thought, when Effie had left him but a short time; 'maybe the lassie's going off in some spurt o' temper, and will repent what she's doin' as long as she lives.'Underlying all Mr. McCullagh's ' keenness' there was a soft vein in his nature, which neither man nor woman had yet essayed to work. People took him just for what he seemed, a 'hard nut;' and it would have surprised many a man who had only known him in business, to find what a depth of tenderness was concealed by that unlikely exterior. Though he felt 'real angry' with Effie, stung by her ingratitude, and incensed by her cool self-will, he could not bear the idea of the girl 'throwing away her future' in such a fashion.Miss Nicol was not, perhaps, exactly the sort of person to whom he might ordinarily have turned for counsel; but in this case she was the only human being he could well consult, and, repairing to the common sitting-room where he found her engaged in mending stockings, he at once plunged into the heart of the matter by asking,'What's all this Effie's been telling me?''About Mrs. Olfradine?' answered Miss Nicol calmly.'She's just taken the notion she'd like to go with her; ye know they were aye thick, and Effie never took kindly to her music or French, since she heard so much of those grand ladies you and Robert thought such a heap of last winter.''Well, I don't care a snap o' my fingers whether she goes on with music or French or not. Plain-sewing stands a lass in far more stead than jingling a tune or parly-vooing. She need learn nothing more, so far as I am concerned; but what I don't like, Janet, is for her to cast herself adrift, in a manner

of speaking, and leave the shelter of a house, where she's been warm and snug and welcome, to go off with a strange woman, to be, as one may say, her servant.''It is very good of ye,' said Miss Nicol; 'but she has put down her foot on it, and when Effie has put down her foot I'm sure I don't know who'd make her lift it. She has felt the house changed this good bit past, and since ye brought David back, things have been worse. He's for aye gibing her about Robert; and now that Robert's taken to go about with handsome young ladies, of course it's no more than nature she should feel she's a sort of stranger and intruder among ye all.''What handsome young ladies does Robert go about with?' asked Mr. McCullagh, in amazement.'That's more nor I can tell ye; maybe it's the Miss Pousnetts.''Hoots!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh impatiently,' who told Effie anything about him?''O, she heard,' said Miss Nicol vaguely, wisely ignoring the fact David had been Effie's informant. 'He's been seen going about St. Paul's Churchyard, and into the shops there, and carrying parcels for young ladies he seemed well content with, and the like.''I suppose he has got a right to speak to a young woman if he pleases?' observed Mr. McCullagh testily.'Ay, to be sure, just the same as Effie has to earn her living. It's best for her to go; she'll never content herself here, now. Ye've all got too high for a girl that hasn't a half-penny she can call her own. I wouldn't hinder her taking Mrs. Olfradine's offer if I was you.''Ye may be very sure I won't,' retorted Mr. McCullagh; and a free passage of arms between his kinswoman and himself would possibly have ensued had it- not so chanced at that very moment the boy Alick appeared to say ' Mr. Alfred Mostin was below, and begged a word.'It was an opportune interruption, and Mr. McCullagh, feeling it to be so, ignominiously retired from the impending conflict.'Janet and the girl may do as they like, for me,' he considered as he went down-stairs. 'I'm getting a wee tired with their vagaries. What's the best of your news, Ailfred?' he added aloud, and causing Mr. Mostin, who was standing in the doorway looking with a rapt attention out upon the court, to start at the suddenness of his address. 'I thought ye never

were coming round to see me. Weel, and what have ye made out?' he added. when he had got the 'ne'er-do-weel' into his sanctum. 'Ye'll surely have great tidings for me after all this while.''I have not much to tell you,' answered Alfred Mostin, 'and it has taken a precious lot of trouble to find out the little I do know. The man who is manager to, or who trades under the name of, Upperton & Co., is called Moorhall. No further back than the beginning of this year he was living in a very poor way at Hoxton, where he entertained no visitors except an occasional broker and an extremely shabby man in possession. He was sold up there, in fact. At Hoxton he dipped under, and reappeared like a dab-chick in a decent lodging at Kingsland. He is associated in some unrighteous way with a lawyer named Bance. He pays cash for everything; but will give credit to well-known firms or to persons not well known who can furnish satisfactory references (he refused to do business with me). I have been unable to find out anything more about him. I can't ascertain who is behind him, neither do I think I shall be able to ascertain.''It's the Scotch folk; it must be some of them; it can be nae ither,' almost wept Mr. McCullagh.But Mr. Alfred Mostin remained resolutely silent; he evidently did not intend to compromise his reputation for acuteness by even a wide conjecture.CHAPTER XXII.
FAIRLY MATCHED.'MY mind sore misgives me that ye're telling me a lee.''Then when next your mind seeks any information, perhaps it will be good enough to do so without my help.'Mr. McCullagh was very angry; and his irritation was not decreased by the cool manner in which Mr. Mostin, grasping with both hands the back of a chair, answered him without a trace of ill-temper, and yet with what the Scotchman mentally termed a 'taunting sort of a smile.'After their last conversation on the subject he had once again despatched 'Ailfred' out into the world ('as Noah sent the dove,' so suggested that irrepressible gentleman), to try if he could not bring back some more certain information on the vexed subject of Upperton & Co., who were, so Mr. McCullagh confided to himself and his son David, playing 'auld Nick wi' his trade.'Warily he had suggested he and Mr. Mostin ' needn't fall out over a pound or two.' He had even said, 'Ye'll maybe want a trifle of silver to treat some lad or ither to a pint of beer. Lord, there's a lot to be got out of English folk for even a glass,' and pressed five shillings into Alf's hand, an amount which Alf's fingers did not refuse to close on; further, he presented that slippery individual with a bottle of the whisky; and after all Mr. Mostin had the assurance to appear before Mr. McCullagh and say, 'wi' a kind o' gir on his face,' he was not a step further forward than when he stood in that room before!'From most men this statement might have been accepted as a fact; but Mr. McCullagh had known Mr. Mostin 'off and on' since he was a 'wee callant,' and was aware that when Alf, either as man or boy, felt adhering to the literal truth irksome or unprofitable, Nature took a malicious pleasure in giving a certain 'thraw to his mouth,' which revealed volumes to the initiated.At the moment of his stating-after some previous dis-

cursive remarks-he could obtain no further information whatsoever on the genealogy of Upperton & Co., that 'thraw' was painfully visible, and naturally Mr. McCullagh drew his own conclusions.'It's just impossible ye could have been hovering round and about the premises, with every chance given ye--for the time ye have--and not be able to track out who's backing him,' maundered on poor Mr. McCullagh, unable to keep silence, and yet feeling himself impotent to clench the assertion he had made.'I do not see anything impossible in the matter,' observed Mr. Mostin.'And ye, that I thought had above all men the gift of finding out whatever ye set yerself to work on.''You overrated my abilities, Mr. McCullagh.''Ay, indeed it would seem sae,' answered that gentleman, with a candour which might have disconcerted any one less indifferent to criticism than the person he addressed. As it was that person only remarked,'I have done the best I could, and failed to find out who is Mr. Moorhall's friend at court. Unless some one has left him a fortune lately, it is certainly not his own capital he is losing. You say he must be losing, but I doubt it. He is selling a good deal under you, but that,' added Mr. Mostin, with a slight sneer, 'proves nothing. He might, I fancy, sell for a long time at the same rate as he is doing, and still keep out of the Gazette.''Ye dinna ken what ye are talking about,' observed Mr. McCullagh, with a heightened colour.'Perhaps not; at any rate, if I lie under any error, I do so in company with wiser persons than myself; all the talk is now about the sums you must have coined.''Me coined!' repeated Mr. McCullagh. 'Bless us and save us! do folk
think the Scotch trade a gold-mine?''They do e'en so,' answered Alf Mostin; 'and they have begun to wonder how you were able to keep the monopoly of it so long.''Ah!' observed Mr. McCullagh.'I can give you one piece of comfort,' said Mr. Mostin.'Can ye? Then I'll be thankful to get it; and I'm sure, Ailfred, ye ought to do me a good turn, for I've aye stood your friend.'' You've what?' asked Mr. Mostin, in amazement.'Stood your friend,' answered Mr. McCullagh, holding to his guns.'When?' inquired Alf.'From the time ye were this height,' said Mr. McCullagh, pointing his meaning by laying one hand on the table by which he sat. 'I used to give ye sweeties when ye came to see your aunt, as ye called her; and I made ye welcome to the house as long as I well could; and I'd have helped ye when ye grew a man if ye'd been a bit more dependable; and I'd try to do something for ye still if it was possible to trust ye, or believe ye mean to keep any promise ye ever made, or may hereafter make.''But, you see, you can't trust me; and I have quite ceased making any promises,' said Alfred gravely.'Indeed! and maybe it's just as well.''Far better. And now, Mr. McCullagh, as we seem to have quite finished our delightful conversation, I think I will be bending my way to North-street.''But I thought ye were going to leave a crumb of comfort behind ye,' suggested Mr. McCullagh.'So I was; by Jove, I had nearly forgotten that!' exclaimed Mr. Mostin. 'I don't think you need fear Upperton & Co. will be your rivals long--''Ay, ay; what makes ye deem sae?' interrupted Mr. McCullagh anxiously.'I fancy, though they are not losing, they are not making enough to continue the sport of trying to cut your throat. They have done sufficient to injure you materially, and some morning they will retire from the combat.''This is grand consolation,' said Mr. McCullagh naìvely. 'Man, why didn't ye begin instead o? ending wi' sic a sang? Go on, go on; I'm fain to hear another stave of it.''You won't be so delighted with the ditty by the time I have done, or I am much mistaken,' observed Mr. Mostin dryly. 'When the house of Upperton turns its attention to some more lucrative trade, you will find plenty of other houses springing up from the seed it has sown. As I told you awhile ago--people are now wondering why the deuce they left you in sole possession of the field for so long; therefore in the future you will find you won't have to deal with one competitor, but with a score.''My word, Ailfred Mostin, Job's friends were cheerful and companionable sort of bodies in comparison wi' you.''Perhaps so; but unlike them, I am in the right. Shippers are saying, "What idiots we were to stand old McCullagh's airs, when we could far more easily have got the goods for ourselves from Scotland!" while the retail houses are cursing their folly in having paid you cash all the time they might have procured the same goods on credit.''Weel, aweel!' ejaculated poor Mr. McCullagh.'If you think it well,' retorted the mauvais sujet, 'I am sure I may; but I know, were I in your shoes, I should consider it bad enough. However, you have nobody but yourself to thank for whatever happens. You shook your way of doing business in the faces of struggling men; you have refused good houses credit, till your "system," as you styled it, has become a laughing-stock in the City; you have sold your goods at an enormous profit; you have refused to what you call cumber yourself with articles that are now constantly in demand; and then, as if all this were not enough, you must, for fear of any poor devil picking up the crumbs left from your business-table, bring that bouncing braggart son of yours from amongst your own countrymen, where he might have lied and boasted to his heart's content, and nobody on this side the Border minded, and start him with a great flourish of trumpets, as though you wanted to make the world believe that Providence, from some special liking to the McCullaghs, had given them the monopoly of marmalades and biscuits, and never intended any other house to get a share of the spoil.'To describe the varying expressions that flitted over Mr. McCullagh's face, as he listened to this outpouring of Alf Mostin's spirit, would be simply impossible. Anger, astonishment, dismay, wounded vanity, all were in turn depicted on his countenance. For once he felt sorely worsted. Making every allowance for animus on the part of Mr. Mostin; let him recall as often as he liked the fact that 'over and over again' he had been forced to tell the young man, not in so many words, perhaps, but as plainly as he could, 'It was better to cry over goods, nor after them;' let him whisper to his own heart, 'Ailfred's jealous o' David'--he could not fail to feel there might be something in what this oracle, whose aid he had invoked, said 'all in a burst o' bitterness.'But he would not show how vexed he was; he thought, even as Alfred was speaking, he must not give that gentleman the satisfaction of knowing his words cut deep. And for this reason, and perhaps because he was so much surprised he could

not have argued the pros and cons of the business then, he said, when Mr. Mostin had quite finished,'I will be in your debt a bit, I think. You have taken a heap o' trouble for me, and it's not your fault more hasn't come of it. There's four poun'; and if that sum seems to ye insuffeecient, I have small objection to put another poun' on the top of it.'Involuntarily almost Alfred Mostin stretched out a hand to take the wealth thus offered; but next instant, drawing it back, he answered,'You are not in my debt, Mr. McCullagh. Matters were rather the other way, I fancy,' added Mr. Mostin, with a wicked smile. 'It was I owed you something, and I think I have paid it.''For about the first time in my memory of ye, Ailfred,' agreed Mr. McCullagh grimly.'It is never too late to mend,' was the reply.'It is aye too soon to rejoice about another man being put to annoyance,' retorted the merchant.'The statement is admirable as a mere aphorism,' said Alf Mostin; 'yet I scarcely consider it a decent one for you to enunciate.''I canna see why not,' returned Mr. McCullagh; 'but surely we have no call to go on chaffering angry words like a couple o' weemen. There's four poun' justly due to ye, and if ye choose to give a sign I'll make it five with pleasure.''I haven't earned your money, and I won't take it,' said Mr. Mostin somewhat rudely.'Times is changed with ye, I'm thinkin'.'Times are changed with me, Mr. McCullagh,' Alf answered, correcting, quite unconsciously, that gentleman's grammar.'I can mind the day ye wouldn't have refused four poun', or four shillin'.''So can I,' replied Mr. Mostin readily.'And I am sure I am very happy to find ye are doing sae well.''And I am very certain if you thought I was, the knowledge would not make you happy at all.''Come, come, Ailfred, ye mustn't carry on like that. Something has put ye out, man. What has David said to set up your back against us all so high?''Not more than you have every one of you done, or would

do, if you got the chance,' answered Mr. Mostin, with savage earnestness. 'Fact is, Mr. McCullagh,' he went on, with a poor affectation of laughing at his own anger, 'you and your sons have got into such a way of thinking, as concerning yourselves, "of such is the kingdom of heaven," that it seems hard to poor sinners like myself, who feel they have but as small a chance of prosperity here as of paradise hereafter.''As for hereafter,' said Mr. McCullagh, in a tone of unwonted modesty, 'it's no for you or me to speak; but I conceder I do know something concerning here, and I am very sure it just lies with a man himself whether he'll compass a fair amount of worldly success, or earn a living, if he earns it at all, haphazard.''There may be something in what you say,' replied Mr. Mostin, 'though I don't think there is much. You might not think it, but I have always admired the way in which you walked to success. If you were hard on other men--and you have been, and are, hard as the nether millstone--you have been equally hard to yourself; if you were for ever preaching the doctrine of incessant work and eternal self-denial, you only preached what you practised in your person. It is quite a different matter with your sons. They are poor creatures, and if they ever make any great hit in life it will merely be because  you are their father, and they are in consequence able to fight the battle with their backs against a rock.'Having concluded which agreeable summary of the McCullagh juniors, Mr. Mostin, without any more formal leavetaking than that involved in the phrase 'Good-day,' walked out of the Scotch warehouse.'My son David,' as Mr. McCullagh usually called his youngest born, when referring to him in his intercourse with strangers, who lived at the paternal mansion, was in the habit of returning thither with a laudable punctuality about meal-times; in fact, rather than keep his father waiting a moment, he usually made his appearance some twenty minutes before anything was put upon the table.He did so on the day when Mr. Mostin had spoken part of his mind; and sauntering leisurely up into the common sitting-room, where Mr. McCullagh chanced to be alone, was greeted by that gentleman with the inquiry,'What the de'il hae ye been saying to Ailfred Mostin to put up his monkey? He has been here to-day as cross as a bear wi' a sore head.''O, didn't say much to him,' explained Mr. David, who, having been
endowed by Nature with a shock of reddish-yellow hair, red whiskers,
light-blue eyes, a florid complexion, and white teeth, thought it
necessary to supplement these personal advantages with the charms of a
ready unabashed manner and fluent speech, twanged with about the very
worst Scotch accent that ever came south to astonish English ears. 'I
spied him the ither forenoon stop and shake hands with the young woman
Robert seems a bit sweet on; so when we met a while later on, I made
some remark about "poaching on somebody else's manor." He got as red
as fire, and asked me what I meant. I said I meant no harm, only I
thought the girl was my brother's jo, and that I must warn Robert
there were bad characters about--meaning no harm, you understand, only
a bit of a jest Well, he flew into a towering rage, wished I would
mind my own business, which perhaps I might in the end find enough for
me; and added that if I spoke a disrespectful word about the young
lady, or, indeed, spoke a word concerning her at all, he would do lots
of things I can't well remember. That made me as angry as himself, and
I said he needn't make such a to-do about a girl I'dare be sworn
hadn't a sixpence in the world, and who couldn't be a young lady, or
she would wear better clothes; whereupon he asked me in a most
offensive way how I knew what clothes should or should not be worn by
ladies, young or old, as I had never opened my lips to one in my
life. After that I don't rightly remember with what words we went at
each other: they were not pleasant, I know; and then as a parting shot
he thanked Heaven we would soon find our trade leaving us; "and that,"
he said, "will cut your comb a bit."''Lord--Lord!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh irritably; 'and I did so want to keep him in good humour.''That you'll never do,' replied David. 'He's an eel-condeshioned houn'.'
'He's got a lot of brains,' observed Mr. McCullagh.'It's a petty he doesn't mak use o' some o' them, then.''It is that,' answered the elder man, in a tone his son did not venture to comment on, though it irritated him a good deal, and impaired the appetite with which he sat down to dinner.That same evening Mr. McCullagh, having thought the matter out over a single glass of toddy, which was, as a rule, all he allowed himself until the witching hour of night, wrote a letter

to North-street, in which, after delicately alluding to David's lack of discretion--a lack he thought ought not to be regarded among friends, as it was only the young man's way--he said he hoped Alfred would let bygones be bygones, and at any rate not quarrel with him because his son had been rash in his speech. He also enclosed an open cheque for five pounds, which he trusted would be accepted as 'better nor nothing.'Back by the messenger came Mr. Mostin's answer. Marvel of marvels! he reenclosed the cheque. 'I have not earned it,' he said, 'and I don't see my way to earn it. As for other matters, my opinion of you personally remains unchanged. It is precisely what it was years back;' an extremely ambiguous phrase, but one which Mr. McCullagh translated, like a wise man, in the most favourable sense possible.He did not, however, extend this feeling to the return of the money.'They have bought him,' he decided, without considering how extremely bad a bargain Alfred Mostin must have proved at any price. 'He'd never otherwise refuse such a sum of money--just a fortune to him, in a manner of speaking.'Full of this idea, and determined if possible to find out for himself what was in the wind, Mr. McCullagh early next morning repaired to North-street. It was now March; a pleasant feeling of spring was in the air; the streets had been freshly watered; a costermonger was pushing a hand-cart laden with plants in pots, in full flower, down Basinghall-street, and crying at the top of his voice, 'All a-blowin'--all a growin';' and altogether, as the Scotch merchant walked briskly along, he felt that if he could understand and get a 'good grip' of the 'conspiracy'--so he called it-which had been set on foot against his trade, he should enjoy the season that had come, and maybe even instruct Janet to buy a pot of musk to set in the window, or a posy of some sort to place in the great china jar his wife had bought, and which still remained intact on the sideboard.When he arrived at Mr. Mostin's 'diggings,' his eye was attracted by two new notices painted on a board in the hall. One was 'The Schlaxenbergen Seidlitz Powder Company;' the other, 'The Anglo-Irish Lace Association.' Both, the board stated, were to be found on the second floor, whither Mr. McCullagh, in some perplexity, betook himself.From the door of the front office Mr. Mostin's name had disappeared entirely, and it was not to be found on the panels

of the back room either. Entering the office of the Schlaxenbergen Seidlitz Company and of the Irish Lace Association, Mr. McCullagh found himself face to face with an exceedingly sharp boy, who, on being mildly asked, 'Can I speak with Mr. Mostin?' answered decidedly, and in the manner of one who was no respecter of persons, 'No, you can't.''Is he not living here now, then?' inquired Mr. McCullagh, who in his surprise at the various changes he beheld, forgot at the moment Mr. Alfred Mostin had been residing in North-street so lately as the preceding evening.'No, he isn't,' replied the boy coolly.'Do ye know where he is gone?' proceeded Mr. McCullagh.'No, I don't.''Do ye think anybody about the place could tell me where one might find him?''It's not likely; but I'll ask, if you wish.''I'd be obliged to ye,' said Mr. McCullagh, who, after the boy disappeared into the retirement of the back room, beheld with surprise that, though the furniture was differently arranged from what it had been on the occasion of his previous visit, everything in the apartment was the same-from the carpet to the desk, from the old coal-scuttle to the book-shelves.The former table was placed lengthwise under the window, and on it were piled circulars concerning the two new companies; likewise samples of seidlitz powders packed in most elaborate boxes, and pattern cards on which were specimens of lace.'Will you please to walk this way?' said the boy, reappearing, when Mr. McCullagh, having exhausted his observations, was wondering whether the head of the Schlaxenbergen Company or the agent of the Lace Association would be good enough to afford him the information he required; and then, as the merchant told the story afterwards, 'he walked before me to the inner door as bold as brass, and, flinging it wide, introduced me into the presence of Ailfred Mostin his ainself.'Mr. Alfred Mostin-attired in an easy costume, consisting of slippers, a pair of trousers greatly the worse for wear, an old shooting jacket worn over a blue-checked shirt without the usual intermediary of a waistcoat-collarless, tieless, braceless, having a belt girt round his middle 'like a navvy,' thought Mr. McCullagh--advanced to meet that gentleman, and, at sight of his amazed and disturbed countenance, burst into a hearty laugh.'The boy did not know who you might be,' he explained, clearing the easy-chair, and by a gesture inviting his visitor to sink into its luxurious depths.'I wonder at ye, I really do!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh virtuously. 'What can ye be thinking about to learn a lad o' that age to tell a wheen o' lies?''My dear sir, in the way of lies, as you delight to call the necessary coin of social life, there is nothing I could teach that boy; even you could not train him to be truthful. He loves falsehood as a duck loves water; he fibs for the sport of the thing. I find him perfectly invaluable. I told you, or perhaps I did not tell you, I was turning over a new leaf. Without his assistance I never should have attempted such an experiment.''It's just awful to hear ye,' said Mr. McCullagh; 'awful! I wonder, I do indeed, where ye expect to go to.''I don't know,' answered Mr. Mostin, 'and, with all due respect to your wisdom, neither do you; but at all events, I am not afraid of faring any worse because of a little necessary prevarication which everybody understands.''Prevarication!' repeated Mr. McCullagh in horror, but he said no more.'How much better should I be,' persisted Mr. Mostin, forgetting the true old proverb that 'he who excuses accuses,' 'if I left myself at the mercy of every dun who chose to climb these stairs? How much better would the duns be, if you come to that? I can't pay them, and I don't mean to be bothered with them while I am making my fortune. I have tried straightforwardness, Mr. McCullagh, I have tried telling the truth, I have tried honesty, and the conclusion I have arrived at is, the world does not understand any one of the three. It is unable to believe in such a trinity of virtues conjointly or separately, and I intend to waste no more time in trying to convert it.''If I hadn't many a year agone ceased to be surprised by anything ye did, Ailfred Mostin, I'd say I wonder ye are not ashamed to talk in such a light sinful manner.''Indeed, Mr. McCullagh, you need not wonder at me; you ought to reserve your astonishment for those who have driven me to such straits. Do you remember the story--but no, I am sure you don't, and so I'll repeat it to you. Once upon a time a debtor was telling his friend how much he owed. Said his friend, "Mon,"--they were both Scotch,--"how can ye sleep in your bed at nicht?" "There's naething to prevent me sleep-

ing in my bed," says the other; "but it often puzzles me sorely how my creditors can sleep in theirs."'Mr. Mostin's enjoyment of this anecdote was so heightened by Mr. McCullagh's grim look of disgust, that he woke the echoes of North-street with his laugh.'Ye ought to have more sense--ye should indeed, expostulated Mr. McCullagh--'than to repeat a wheen fool havers even a child would know were just a heap o' lies.''Well, it is not a falsehood, at any rate, to say people don't believe in the honesty of each other,' said Mr. Mostin, with an air of thorough conviction.'I believe in the honesty of most of my fellow-creatures,' observed Mr. McCullagh, in a religious sort of manner.'You do! Come, now, confession is good for the soul; tell me frankly. How many honest men do you suppose you trade with?''The bulk of my customers are honest, I am very sure.''Then why do you refuse to trust your goods across your doorstep?''That's a horse of quite another colour. There is many a reason forbye want of confidence that makes a cautious man prefair to sell for cash.''Could you give me one, for example?''Certainly: insufficient capital.''That might be cause for me to refuse credit; but it is ridiculous to imagine you are similarly situated.''That all depends on the bigness of the orders which come in,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'besides, to be plain with ye, I am not jest so strict as ye seem to conceit. When I know I can depend on a man's word,' and here the speaker looked very straight indeed in Mr. Mostin's face, 'I don't mind waiting a wee for my money. It's all according to circumstances. But I didn't come here this morn to trouble ye with arguments of any sort,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh, who, in truth, was getting extremely tired of the argument itself: 'I want ye to do me a small favour, and that is, keep the trifle of money I sent ye last night. Ye've aimed it fairly, lad,, fairly. If I spoke a bit hasty yesterday I'm sorry for it. The word passed my lips without thought. Ye'll take five poun' from me, won't ye, Ailfred?''Sorry to be obliged to refuse.''Ye must be doing uncommon well,' hazarded the Scotchman.'Well, yes, I am,' agreed Mr. Alfred Mostin, taking up a bill explanatory of all the blessings to be derived from a three months' course of Schlaxenbergen Seidlitz. 'I think I shall make a pot of money in a very short time.'Ah, how often had Alf Mostin felt sure of making his fortune!'I hope ye're not making a mistake instead,' suggested Mr. McCullagh, with unconscious sarcasm.'O no, I'm not,' was the confident reply. 'First cast your eye over that circular, and see if you can resist ordering a few boxes of Schlaxenbergen. Observe the testimonials--clergy-men, lawyers, public singers, ladies of title. Field-officers declare this medicine preserved our troops in the Crimea during the late inclement weather.''And who do you think would be taken in with all this?'asked Mr. McCullagh scornfully.'You would, for one,' answered Alf Mostin boldly, 'if ye did not know the circular emanated from North-street, and the vendor was myself. The world at large, however, has not the advantage of my acquaintance; and when it reads in the country papers the advertisement which I drew up with the greatest care, and which I flatter myself is a masterpiece of persuasive composition, stamps are at once sent for my circular entitled "Cases and Cures," which, in its turn, fetches orders for this "elegant and delightful medicine, prepared on the spot from the famous Schlaxenbergen waters, by a new method of evaporation discovered by an eminent German chemist, and recently protected in England by her Majesty's letters patent," vide prospectus. Will you take a few bills, Mr. McCullagh; you might put a small bundle up in each of your foreign cases?'Mr. McCullagh glared at him. 'I'm no so blate, Ailfred, my man,' he observed.'Or perhaps the lace might find more favour in your eyes,' pursued Mr. Mostin. 'A large and influential party in England is now getting up the periodical furore concerning Irish manufactures. Our idea has been to employ travellers to collect lace from the cottages throughout the sister kingdom, just as higglers gather eggs in France, and by bringing the product to one great emporium enable purchasers to see at a glance the art-resources which have hitherto lain perdu in the Emerald Isle.''Ye're a wonderful young man,' said Mr. McCullagh, waving aside the sheet of specimens Alf Mostin thrust under his nose.

'Wi' such a gift o' the gab ye ought to have done better for yourself than ye have done. It just grieves me to see ye wasting your time on such foolishness. Somebody, too, must be finding ye cash for all this; ye can't advertise and print and pay postage for nothing; and I'm very sure it's no your own money ye're making ducks and drakes of.''Quite wrong, Mr. McCullagh; it's my own hard silver I have invested in these two ventures. You have always said, "There is nothing like truth." Well, I am going to put your theory to the test--tell you the truth--and the consequence will be you will say, if not to me, at least to yourself, when you go back to Basinghall-street, "That fellow does not stick at telling a good falsehood when he is about it."'A short time ago, I got unexpectedly a sum of money, which, though not much, seemed a windfall to me. If it had been a large sum I'd have paid off every sixpence I owed, and tried to begin afresh; but as it would only have given a composition of about a farthing in the pound, I thought I had best keep it for myself. If I had paid any one it might have made ill-will, so I decided to pay nobody at present. While I was casting about I heard accidentally of a man who had taken a lot of stuff for making seidlitz for a bad debt, and did not know what the deuce to do with it; and while we were discussing matters he was offered a lot of lace for an old song. I proposed to buy and sell both. He agreed. I knew we should get nothing if I went to the wholesale houses, so decided to endeavour to work the oracle by means of country customers. On these small beginnings I mean to build up a trade, and a good one.''I'm sure I hope ye mayn't find it topple over wi' ye.''And you don't care to speculate in a few gross of seidlitz powders, or a hundred lots of laces (assorted)? I could supply you exceedingly cheap, and we need not quarrel about terms; and I assure you I will not refuse your bill at three months, or even four.'Mr. Mostin's good temper proved too much even for his straitlaced relative (by marriage, as Mr. McCullagh was always careful to explain), and the Scotchman laughed outright.'I don't think ye will, my lad, when I ask ye to take one; and as for your goods, you know I never speculate in anything.''Then there is nothing I can do for you this morning?' said Alfred, as though he were standing in a warehouse brimful of the most valuable merchandise.'Nothing, I'm obliged. Ou--ay, there is one wee matter, though. Who's that young lady ye were talking with when David met ye?'Alfred Mostin did not immediately speak; then, after a pause, he remarked,'I do not want to be uncivil to a visitor, Mr. McCullagh, or I would ask you what the----concern it is of yours to whom I speak?''In a general sort of way, I'm bound to say none at all; and I ask your pardon if I have seemed to poke my neb where it is no wanted. The reason I asked ye, however, was I've been given to understand Robert is acquaint wi' her too, and seems to have a bit of fancy in that direction.''Then if you want any information about Robert's acquaintances, you had better go to him. Since he has been in Pousnetts' house he honours me with precious little of his company.''Ye're right, Ailfred; ye're quite right. I oughtn't to have inquired concerning my son's affairs from any one but himself. I am very sorry.''There is no harm done,' answered Mr. Mostin carelessly.'And as ye won't take the trifle of cash, I think I'll be going,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'Good-morning, and I wish ye well.''Do you ? thought Alf, as he opened the door, and let him out on the top of the dangerous staircase. 'I am not quite such a fool as to believe that.' While Mr. McCullagh, groping his way down the steep twisting steps, considered,'It'll be all the better if Robert and he have had an outfall. He always did lead the boy into mischief. As for truth, he does not know the colour of it. I'm sure he has been lying to me through thick and thin this morning. It would not surprise me in the least to find he was started some fine morning in the Scotch trade. Ay, they've bought him, they've bought him, and sold me. Well, maybe yet they'll find the tough stuff auld Rab is made of.'CHAPTER XXIII.
MR. M'CULLAGH ASKS A QUESTION.No great man ought to have a son. Orators, diplomatists, authors, preachers, should leave no male behind to trade upon a fame his puny exertions could never have compassed, to drag a brilliant reputation through the mire of incompetency, and render the degenerate descendant of a mighty name the laughing-stock of the world, which bowed down before the genius of him who had brains to make a grand success.It is the same, to a certain extent, in business. The self-made man, who from penury has been able to climb to success, who from small beginnings has gained large possessions, should only rear daughters, who he can dower munificently, and barter away for rank, or learning, or even a larger amount of money than he himself possesses. Sons, however, he should not have. Inheriting all their father's least amiable qualities, they miss the training of circumstances he received, the hard blows of fortune, the indifference of society, the enforced self-denial, the knocks to pride, the smart slaps to vanity. Stepping into the position made for them by their parent, they imagine all they own has been won by themselves; they forget the advantages with which they start, and, from the high ground on which his exertions have placed them, look down with a keenly critical eye upon the road trodden by one who may chance, and usually does chance, to have more sense in his little finger than they possess in the whole of their collective bodies.Dimly Mr. McCullagh was beginning to comprehend something of this truth. His sons were, he felt, getting 'a bit uplifted,' 'outstripping his old-fashioned notions;' inclined also, it might be, to consider whether he had done all he should have accomplished.Kenneth, for instance--Kenneth, of whose exaltation he had been so proud--was not long affianced ere he wrote to know what his father proposed doing for him in the way of 'house-plenishing,' and, indeed, went so far as to suggest that a house itself would not be an ungraceful form of wedding gift.He instanced two cases where houses had not been merely presented to the happy bridegroom, but furnished from tip to toe, from garret to cellar; and when Mr. McCullagh decidedly declined to do more 'nor give him a handsome present, or a hundred-pound note, if he preferred buying something for himself,' adding, that, when he and his wife came together, he would have thought a 'heap of the half,' Mr. Kenneth turned very sulky, not to say impertinent: reminded his father the world had not been standing still this thirty years, that wives now expected to have things different from what contented their mothers; further, that in his opinion his father ought not to consider five times a hundred pounds to enable him to make a good start in his new position.In reply to this extremely explicit statement Mr. McCullagh enclosed a cheque for the sum he had originally mentioned, intimating at the same time that Kenneth could ' either take it or leave it,' and adding, 'things hadn't changed so much in Basinghall-street that bank-notes were to be picked up off the pavement.'Kenneth kept the cheque, and duly passed it through his bankers; but, while thanking his father for his present, he said he could not exactly understand why one son should receive so little, and another so much. There was, he truly remarked, a considerable difference between one hundred pounds and seven thousand, which, he understood, had been given or advanced to Robert.'Ye're mightily mistaken,' wrote back the head of the family, 'if ye think your eldest brother has had a farthing from me. He had not to take a penny into Pousnetts'.'It was trying, Mr. McCullagh considered at his leisure, to find money 'so uppermost' in the minds of his children, as if, from their youth, they had not been taught to consider shillings and pounds of more importance than learning, or breeding, or kindliness, or the gentle courtesies of life. Basinghall-street was not, of late years, a region in which the softer virtues found congenial soil. How they might have flourished in the olden days, when English merchants of the best school lived there, and reared sons and daughters, and dispensed hospitality with no niggard hand, and charity which was not blazoned forth to the world, is quite another matter. Plain auld Rab's lot had been cast in a different era; and in his long and brave struggle with fortune, though he had 'lived honest, and worked hard, saved all he could, and spent nothing which was not absolutely

needful,' he had forgotten a man may be rich in money, and yet poor in happiness, and that if he desires to have loving hearts around him in age, he must sow the seeds of affection broadcast in his youth and prime.And now, what did he find? That his very sons only regarded his wealth, and that one of them, at all events, looked upon him as 'a bit of a fool.''That "weary Davie," who is as full of new-fashioned crotchets as an egg is of meat,' groaned Mr. McCullagh, 'thinks I know nothing of my own business--the business I made--and that he could work up a trade in half the time.'Mr. David was indeed at no pains to conceal this opinion. 'Ye're behind the times,' he was wont to say to his father, 'all behind; ye have not a notion what is going on in the North. I could name houses where not an article sent into the market is genuine: everything is made out of something else. It is amazing the perfection to which adulteration has been brought. Why, people laugh nowadays at the notion of selling thoroughly sound articles. The great point is to find a cheap substitute for an expensive one. The period is past for such conscientiousness as you affect, sir. Ere long you will find that unless you go with the swim you will be left high and dry amongst your "home-made jams and orange marmalades," and suchlike.''I'll take my chance,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'I believe a sound article will always command a purchaser.''It may,' answered the younger man; 'but I think ye'll find a cheap one commands a good many more; and I tell ye candidly, if this business were mine I would go in for a different sort of trade altogether.''Weel, weel!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, 'when it is yours ye can do as ye please: meanwhile there'll no sweetened turnips go out of any place I'm owner of as choice Seville, or glucose disguised with rotten figs be sold here as finest raspberry preserve.''It is all a question of time,' answered Mr. David easily; 'ye'll come to it yet. Why, only remember no new man is making anything now out of genuine goods; the public don't care twopence whether things are genuine or not so long as they taste well. Consider the soups that are being shipped daily to the Crimea. I don't say I should like to eat them myself, because I have been behind the scenes: yet how good they are! how exquisitely they are flavoured! how well they taste!'Upon an average every other day at that period, and for a long time after, there appeared some new sort of' compressed food:' from horses' forage to hospital diet, all articles were so to be manipulated that freight should be reduced to a minimum.There was just then a fearful thing to look upon exposed for sale in most shops, principally oilmen's, where, besides its own natural odour, it acquired the additional flavours of yellow soap and tallow candles.It was exhibited to the public reposing against walls and doorways, and was even to be seen on the pavements leaning against convenient window-ledges, set up on end like a flagstone, being of about the same size and thickness, only curiously mottled, and exciting by its extraordinary appearance a good deal of notice and comment. This fearful triumph of the caterer's art, which smelt like seaweed, and looked-and, indeed, must have been-extremely dirty, was compressed vegetables. A piece could be chipped off with a hammer and put in water to soak, when it was supposed to impart a fine flavour to soup, and, indeed, provide for a mere trifle all the various items a cook would order in detail from the greengrocer. David McCullagh ardently desired to add this product of human ingenuity to the 'honest stock' his father had ordered in, and was, indeed, still ordering, from the good men and true, north of the Tweed, who had as yet condescended to none of those tricks of trade a new generation had taken to with an avidity which seemed unintelligible to a person who, like poor Mr. McCullagh, had made his money after a very different fashion, and was truly, as his son said, behind the times. To Basinghall-street the younger McCullagh repaired one day, with a piece of the dainty in question wrapped up in paper. He did not tell Mistress Nicol the nature of the article he had introduced into the house, and would have smuggled it into the broth then in process of manufacture, but that, Janet appearing at the very moment when he was about, to quote her own words, 'to spoil good victuals,' a controversy arose which both parties were obliged eventually to refer to the master of the establishment.Then ensued the first serious quarrel Mr. McCullagh ever had with one of his children; then David was told if he couldna content himself with old ways that had served his father, it would be best for him to return to those that seemed to suit him better.'I have long known ye were trying to remodel the business I established before ye chanced to be thought of,' finished Mr. McCullagh, 'but it is hard I should have to put a guard on my kitchen too. Ye'll be bringing home next some sirloin off an old mare, or a salt round of beef cut from an ass. I'll no have it, David. Ye can't say but I have dealt fairly and honestly by ye; and ye shall deal fairly and honestly by me, or else we'll just pairt company.''I meant no harm,' answered David; 'I only wanted to show ye what right good stuff it was ye were refusing to deal in. But there's nobody except Robert can please ye now. Maybe if I'd got a partnership in a big house ye'd think more of the suggestions I make.''When ye get a pairtnership in a big house it'll be time enough to consider that question,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'and as for Robert, the lad's never had a halfpenny from me, and I can't see the reason why ye're one and all girding at him, because he has chanced to fall in with good fortune and made the best of his opportunity.'I wonder how ye'll like his wife?' retorted David, shooting the only arrow that lay ready to hand.'I'll be able to tell ye better when he has got one,' said Mr. McCullagh; and taking no verbal notice of the sneer on David's face, he walked out of the room, thinking it really was time he spoke to Robert about the 'talk' he could not help hearing.Months had gone by since he told Alfred Mostin he would ask Robert himself about the young lady 'folk were making mention of;' but somehow, upon the rare occasions when he and his first-born met, he had not found an opportunity to touch on so delicate a subject.Since the change at Pousnetts'--since, in fact, Robert was admitted as one of the firm--he had noticed a great alteration in the young man. Mr. McCullagh was fain to admit that good fortune had greatly improved his son; he was more thoughtful in his looks and quieter in his manner, more ready to listen when his seniors were expressing their opinions, less eager to air his own notions. He was not so much taken up with himself either; even Miss Nicol remarked she fancied Robert's vanity must have met with some sort of upset, for he did not seem half so 'conceity' as he used to be.In good truth the young man had enough to think about and feel anxious concerning. That awful debt. the interest of

which was, sleeping or waking, weekday or Sunday, running on, might well cause him to think less of his dark hair and the fit of his clothes. All unknown to his father, he was carrying a burden which might well have crushed the spirit of a bolder man. He had anxieties he could not mention to any one; as a matter of fact he was as much a subordinate as in the days when he only held the rank of manager. He did not know what was going on; he was not consulted about any fresh arrangement. Mr. Pousnett never asked his opinion before deciding what was to be done. For that matter he did not take counsel with his own son, which made it all the more difficult for Robert to assert his right--a feat, indeed, he did not attempt. Always Mr. Pousnett had been the head of the firm; now it was evident he meant actually, though not nominally, to be the only person in it. He was the mainspring of the whole concern. As Mr. Stanley Pousnett said, 'By George, if the governor was to be found dead some fine morning, I don't know who would be able to carry on the business.'Ignorant of the many causes which combined to produce the depression of spirits under which Robert evidently laboured, Mr. McCullagh not unnaturally attributed the change in his son to disappointment at being excluded from the delightful society that obtained in Portman-square. He was well aware 'the store' Robert set by 'great folks.' He knew 'the lad had always been a bit above his station,' and he had sense and kindly feeling enough to sympathise with one of 'his own blood,' who, after having had his 'hopes raised high,' was all in a minute left out in the cold.About the middle of June, Mr. McCullagh's attention chanced to be specially directed to this point by noticing a look in Robert's face he 'couldna just fathom,' by receiving a note from Mr. Pousnett asking him to dinner, and by hearing an ill-natured remark from David to the effect that 'grand as Robert thought himself, he evidently was not counted grand enough for the Pousnetts.'With that charming frankness for which the household in Basinghall-street was noticeable, David made this observation in his brother's presence, and Robert answered it in a spiritless manner with the words,'So it seems.''I'll walk a step with ye,' said Mr. McCullagh, when his eldest son rose to go. 'If ye're returning to the office we may

as well make through Austin Friars. It's quiet and out of the throng.'From which suggestion Robert understood his father wished to speak to him.'There's a thing I've had it on my mind to say to ye for some time past,' began Mr. McCullagh, when, leaving Moorgate-street behind, they found themselves in the alley leading to Austin Friars; 'but I did not care to meddle in the matter as it scarce seemed my business.''Good Heavens, he cannot know anything about Snow!' thought Robert, in a panic; but he only said, 'Indeed, sir!' 'I don't think putting in my word can do any harm now though,' proceeded the other, 'and it may save ye feeling vexed
when David is on with his jeers. I know the reason Mr. Pousnett does not bid ye to his house. He told me straight-forward the time ye were away in Holland.''And what may that reason be?' inquired his son, with a natural curiosity and a great sense of relief.'He was just uneasy lest ye might take it into your head to be making up to one of his daughters.''To one of the Miss Pousnetts?''To one of them,' agreed Mr. McCullagh.'Why, such a notion never entered my mind!' exclaimed Robert.'Maybe not; but he was afraid it might.''It never could. What should I do with a fine lady for a wife?''Ye may well ask that,' returned Mr. McCullagh approvingly.'Why, Miss Pousnett's dress must cost more than I am ever likely to make a year.''Well, I wouldn't go quite so far as that; but I agree with ye that a fine lady's no a fit wife for a plain man.'Robert winced a little. Even yet he was not prepared to class himself in the latter category.'But that's neither here nor there,' remarked Mr. McCullagh airily. 'All I wanted to tell ye was ye needn't be fretting yourself, thinking Pousnett meant to put any slight on ye.''I'm not fretting myself,' answered Robert, who looked at the moment almost as dull as Effie had ever done.'And while we're on the subject of young ladies,' continued his father, 'I'd like ye to tell me who that is ye've been seen walking with. Mind,' added Mr. McCullagh hastily,' I 

don't say I've any right to ask ye; but I'd be well pleased if ye'd no objection to say.''I have no objection at all, sir,' answered Robert; 'in fact, I meant to speak to ye on the subject if you had not spoken. The young lady is a Miss Lilands, who, I hope, will one day be your daughter-in-law.''I deemed as much,' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh, without committing himself to any expression of pleasure at the prospect offered.'She is a lady, though not a fine one,' went on Robert, a little flurried.'Ay, ay,' commented Mr. McCullagh. 'And how long have ye and she been acquaint?''Long enough for me to be sure she is the only girl I could ever marry.''Well, ye're old enough to know your own mind,' said his father ambiguously.'I hope so,' answered Robert; 'and when you see her I think you will not wonder at my choice.''Where did ye fall in with her?' asked Mr. McCullagh, which might have proved a difficult question had his son not often mentally faced the certainty of its being propounded.'First at a friend's, and afterwards in her mother's house.''She's got a mother, then?''Yes, she has got a mother,' agreed Robert.There was a minute's pause--a blessed truce, the young man felt it to be--ere the resumption of hostilities. Then:'She's no one of the Mostin lot, is she, Robert?' asked Mr. McCullagh anxiously.'No, sir; neither friend nor relation.''That's a good thing. I was often afraid ye might get caught by some of them.''None of them ever tried to catch me.''That's all ye know about it. However, there's no harm happened. What made me put the question was I heard she had been speaking to Ailfred.'It was on Robert's lips to say, 'Some one seems to take a vast amount of interest in my affairs;' but he wisely refrained, and contented himself with the somewhat jesuitical statement, 'Alfred only knows Miss Lilands through me.''I see,' observed Mr. McCullagh. 'And how far have things gone with ye?'They had not passed out into Throgmorton-street, but were

pacing up and down opposite the Dutch church while this conversation was in progress.'Well, pretty far,' confessed Robert. 'I have asked her to marry me.''And she said " yes," of course?''No; she said she could not leave her mother.''Why, what would hinder her?''Mrs. Lilands is ill.''What ails her?''They lost a law-suit, or rather there was some disappointment about a law-suit, which brought on a fit, and Mrs. Lilands has never been the same since.''They're poor, then,' was the conclusion to which Mr. McCullagh instantly jumped.'They have enough to live on,' amended Robert.'Where is their house?''Out at Old Ford.'It cost Mr. McCullagh junior an effort to make this confession.I'd like well to see the young lady.''I trust you will one day.'Like an old diplomatist, Mr. McCullagh took no notice of this reply; and it was not until they were nearing Mr. Pousnett's City quarters that he asked,'I suppose ye are mighty busy jest now, Robert?''No, indeed, we are very slack this week. I have nothing to do when I get back except sign a few letters.''Then I'll tell ye how we'll plan it, Robert. I will come back for ye in half an hour. There is a place I want to call at near hand; and then ye can take me out, to Old Ford, and make me acquainted with the lady that's to be Mrs. Robert junior.'CHAPTER XXIV.
OPINIONS DIFFER.IF he could have thought of any decent excuse for refusing to comply with his father's request, Robert junior would, with avidity, have availed himself of it. There were reasons why he did not desire to introduce any one belonging to him into the small house where his lady-love dwelt without due notice being given of the impending visit. As he sat in his office he formed wild plans for avoiding the difficulty. There was nothing indeed, visionary or unpractical, that he failed to grasp at for the first five minutes after his father left him; but a little reflection soon showed the impolicy of even attempting to defer the evil hour. Mr. McCullagh was not a man to be 'put off' on any pretext whatever without forming unfavourable suspicions in consequence. Some day or other he must see where the Lilands lived, and how; at a not remote period it would, Robert felt, be necessary to let him understand how matters really stood. He had hoped to persuade Miss Janey to go with him to Basinghall-street and make his father's acquaintance in that cheerful abode; but now he considered it might be as well to get the interview over without the knowledge of Miss Nicol or David. Yes, things were all ordered for the best, he decided.If Mrs. Lilands only chanced to be asleep in her easy-chair, or safely stowed away in the privacy of her own room, the ceremonial might pass over without any hitch. On the other hand, if Mrs. Lilands were awake and refused to speak--a matter of not uncommon occurrence--the visit would prove awkward. However, he had told his father the lady's health was bad; and he was well aware that, in Mr. McCullagh's eyes, sickness covered a multitude of sins.'I only hope she won't be downrightly rude,' he prayed; for more than once he had seen his future mother-in-law in the worst of tempers, and felt that if, on the present occasion, she 'exhibited vice,' to use Alf Mostin's phrase, it would require all Janey's tact to render the interview other than a total failure.'You must let me call a hansom, father,' said Robert, when they were standing side by side in Leadenhall-street. 'It will be too far for you to walk.''Too far!' echoed Mr. McCullagh, in high good-humour; for it was not often his son addressed him in such filial fashion. 'Nonsense, lad; just a pleasant saunter. I'm in the mood for stepping out. It's the very sort of day for a little exercise--fine, but not too warm; and the bit of a breeze that's springing up is delightful.'Glad to have broken the ice when his parent was in so genial a mood, Robert, as they proceeded, embraced the opportunity of giving an account of the Lilands family. He traced their pedigree back to a period long anterior to the Conquest; he told all the Lilands had been and all they had done--so far, at least, as it seemed desirable to chronicle their beings and doings; he described Lilands Abbey; he touched upon the amount of money Mrs. Lilands had hoped to receive under the will of General Lilands, Janey's great-uncle; he made casual mention of the terrible fall, in a social and pecuniary sense, their present position must seem, when contrasted with the beauties of the fine old English mansion where Mrs. Lilands had resided for some years before the General's death; and, he observed incidentally, he did not believe there was another girl in the world who could, under the same conditions, have kept up her cheerfulness like Janey.'It's no a bad sort of name that,' said Mr. McCullagh, wisely refraining from committing himself to any comment on Robert's statements; 'but I prefer Jeanie.''I am sure she would be delighted to hear you call her Jeanie,' observed Robert diplomatically; but he could not elicit any corresponding reply from his father. Mr. McCullagh was far too old a bird to be caught by any chaff of that sort; and he did not mean to say a word for or against the match till he had seen the young woman and judged for himself.It is scarcely necessary, however, to add that he started for Old Ford with a sort of doubt in his mind, which certainly Robert's not very judicious statements concerning the wealth and renown of the Lilands family were ill calculated to dissipate.'There's a screw loose somewhere,' decided the canny Scot. 'If there wasn't, people like them wouldn't foregather with Robert. Only maybe,' he thought, after a pause, 'they have heard some word about me, and deem him a fish better

worth catching than he is in reality;' for Mr. McCullagh had already gauged the truth of his son's position at Pousnetts'.'Only a wee above a manager,' he soliloquised, careful always to keep this opinion to himself. 'Poor fellow, he has not wit enough to make a stand and keep it! Only till my dying day it will remain a standing mystery to me why Pousnett took him at all.''It's not much of a place,' said Mr. McCullagh, as he and his son stood in front of the little garden-gate, waiting for admission; but the air is good. I think I feel the smell of new-mown grass, Robert. What d'ye say?'Robert, who at that moment could distinguish nothing save the mingled scents of clove-pinks, June roses, white lilies, and sweet peas, agreed that he thought he did.'And they've made the most of their bit of ground,' added Mr. McCullagh, with gracious condescension, surveying the tiny beds edged with box, where the flowers mentioned above were blooming with prodigal profusion, as flowers always do bloom in gardens belonging to the poor.To this Robert made no answer. He knew who had made the most of that bit of ground for Janey; he knew who had not been above doffing his coat and working in his shirt-sleeves, and grubbing in the earth aud otherwise disgracing himself, when he, Robert, would gladly have paid a labourer any sum of money rather than see his relation stoop so low. Between himself and Alf there had occurred some sharp passages on this very subject; and now the place was a bower of beauty, and every one who passed by stopped and admired the humble cottage set in such a wealth of flowers and fragrance.'I don't mind me when I've seen such a garden,' went on Mr. McCullagh, innocently unconscious that he was driving his son to the verge of desperation. 'Look at those harebells. Why, I haven't come across a harebell this thirty year and more.''Haven't you, sir?' said Robert faintly, as they filed up the
narrow walk, guarded by the miniature maidservant, who, in answer to his inquiry, stated that 'Miss Lilands was within.'It was surely, thought Mr. McCullagh, the smallest hall on earth in which he found himself, while the little girl squeezed past, to duly announce the visitors.'It's just an entry,' he reflected, reverting to the simple phraseology of his tender youth; 'and the house is no better nor a labourer's. Well, this is a queer sort of place to find

gentlefolk.' With which idea he crossed the threshold of the sitting-room, and, lifting his eyes, conceived a hatred--I use the word advisedly--to Janey Lilands on the spot.If the girl had been dressed as 'beseemed her station,' like either of the Misses Pousnett, or looked a 'quiet ordinary sort of body,' after the pattern of Effie, Mr. McCullagh might not have received the shock he did. As matters were, however, he felt Miss Lilands had no business in this world. She was 'clean out of place.' Not her humble surroundings, not her cheap dress, not the evidences of straitened means, which were clearly visible in her home, could rob this 'young woman' of the birthright she had inherited, detract from her beauty, destroy the charm of her manner, change the sweetness of her voice, obliterate the broad line of demarcation that separated her from the class to which Mr. McCullagh belonged, and which in his heart he believed to be the only good, virtuous, and desirable class on earth.'Voice, manner, looks,' he decided, 'were all dead against her. The lad's mad, clean mad, or he would see she is taking him for nothing but his money;' and then he civilly returned her greeting, and said some words about hoping he was not intruding.'We are very much obliged to you for coming at all,' answered Janey; but though she made most creditable efforts to get her face to testify to the sincerity of her words, she failed for a minute to do so. Robert had often attempted to describe his father to her; but what form of words could have reproduced Mr. McCullagh to the imagination as he appeared in the flesh?--a small, mean-looking, ill-dressed man, with an unpleasant voice and a dreadful accent, who would have seemed bad enough in the vague character of parent to any one, but who, standing in that close relationship to Robert, literally shocked poor Janey to such an extent she could scarcely speak with composure.'Let me introduce you to mamma,' she went on, turning towards the armchair, where sat Mrs. Lilands, nodding and, smiling in a fatuous manner, which appalled Mr. McCullagh and, as he confessed afterwards, threw him all out in his reckoning. 'This is Mr. McCullagh, Mr. Robert's father, who has been so kind as to call and inquire how you are,' she explained.'O, better, better,' answered Mrs. Lilands; 'most thoughtful, I'm sure;' and then she made signs which Miss Janey explained meant that she wished the stranger to take a chair near her.'Mamma is quite in good spirits to-day,' she added, turning to her adorer with a smile.As for poor Mr. McCullagh, he advanced to the seat allotted to him with, a feeling of trepidation, not to say terror. Written plainly across Mrs. Lilands' face was the story her daughter could not or would not see; that story indeed which seems to fade away under the gaze of familiar eyes, while it appears to strangers to be branded in such letters that he who runs must surely read.There was that gray shade resting upon the features, which only comes when the mind is hopelessly affected; the wandering anxious look in the vacant eyes; the twitch, showing the muscles have lost their power of control; the restless movement of the idle hands; the unmeaning smile; the purposeless inquiry of the fitful glance.In his day and generation Mr. McCullagh had seen and been intimate with many a one of that large community which used formerly to be permitted to roam about at large, and which he broadly styled 'naturals;' and if no one else in that room realised that Mrs. Lilands' senses were lost beyond recovery, he did.'She is as crazy as auld Betty that used to frighten us all when we were bairns,' he muttered; and as he had never quite got over the terror Betty implanted in his young bosom, it was with a species of horror he nerved himself for the tête-è-tête Mrs. Lilands was evidently contemplating.'I'll hev to be gey and civil to her,' he thought, 'or the Lord only knows what notion she may take into her head. Deliver us, what is she looking for now?' he added to himself, as Mrs. Lilands began, in a feeble but persistent way, to search her skirt and then the chair for something she missed.Instantly Janey was by her side. 'What is it, mamma dear?' she asked. 'O, your fan;' and lifting that article, which was lying on a small table close at hand, she presented it to her mother, who, lying back and half-closing her eyes, opened that coquettish weapon, and at once proceeded to demolish Mr. McCullagh, by using it with all the arts and graces of twenty years previously.'Janey,' came uncertainly from the lips that could utter no word resolutely again for evermore.'Yes, mamma.''The Dean will take some tea.''I have told Milly to bring the tray in.''Perhaps he would like to walk through the grounds.'Janey threw an appealing look at Mr. McCullagh, as she answered,'I do not think he would; he has had a long walk, and is tired.''Yes, I should prefair to remain where I am for the present,' said Mr. McCullagh bravely, though he was sitting on thorns.'So kind, so very kind of you to come so far,' murmured the lady, still fanning herself.'O, that's nothing to speak of,' answered Mr. McCullagh. 'It's no so far at all.''It always seems to me an immense distance,' said Mrs. Lilands, in her best company manner, the effect of which was certainly spoiled by that draw of the mouth and drop of the lower lip; 'and of course we always drive.''Weel, it's the easiest when ye can afford it, no doubt,' agreed Mr. McCullagh; 'but, for my own pairt, I've aye been used to Shanks's mare, and I find that a very good way of getting over the ground, and cheap too.'Mrs. Lilands looked puzzled; she was evidently trying to recollect the name of Shanks as a livery-stable keeper, and failed.'How is dear Mrs. Crattock?' she asked, abandoning the previous attempt, and putting this question in a tone of the deepest interest.' She is very well, I thank you,' said Mr. McCullagh, wondering who Mrs. Crattock might be.Mrs. Lilands smiled idiotically, and nodded at him, while the play ceased for a moment.'You will tell her,' she entreated, 'you will be sure to say, I should certainly have driven over to see her ere now--only--only--I have not felt very strong of late;' and the poor lady looked at her trembling fingers as she spoke, while with one thin white hand she began plucking at the fringe of her shawl.'Ay, indeed: I'm vexed to hear that,' observed Mr. McCullagh, true to his rôle of keeping 'this daft creature' in good temper. 'What is the matter?''Well, I can scarcely tell you; even the doctors seem uncertain. But then these local doctors are not much good, are they?''They're none at all,' he agreed recklessly.'The General is talking of getting down Sir George Ronald; he who saved the dear Bishop, you remember.''I mind,' said Mr. McCullagh mendaciously.'It was before your time, though,' amended Mrs. Lilands. 'The old Dean lay dying then.''I meant to say I heerd tell of it,' Mr. McCullagh hastened to explain.'Yes, every one heard of it, for Dr. Forbes and all the other local practitioners had given the case up; and so--What was I going to remark?''That the General wanted to have him to see you.''Yes, O yes; thank you so much, Mr. Dean; and then, you know, he might be able to give me something.''That he certainly might.''You are of the same opinion?''I don't see how anybody could be off being of the same.''Then I shall tell the General directly he returns. Janey!''Yes, mamma.''Do not let me forget to mention to your uncle that Mr. Dean quite agrees with him in thinking it would be well to send for Sir George Ronald. I feel quite satisfied he could cure me at once. You see,' she went on, speaking confidentially to Mr. McCullagh, 'I can't sleep at night. I get no settled rest. I do not think till I get over the shock caused by the Admiral's death I shall feel quite well.''I'm afraid ye won't, ma'am.''And I suppose the cathedral is looking charming?''It's much the same as usual; I see no change in it,' answered Mr. McCullagh, who felt each moment that he was drifting further and further out to sea.Meanwhile Janey was making the tea, and Robert whispering to her.'This is a change indeed. How long has she been like that?''Since the day before yesterday,' answered the girl. 'When she awoke she thought she was back at the Abbey, and asked me to tell Rose--that was her maid--to bring her coffee.''And the fancy .has never since left her?''Not for any length of time. When it does she begins to cry. She asked the doctor this morning if he did not think a short drive in the open carriage would do her good.''Who on earth does she take my father for?''The Dean of Betford. There is,' added Janey, turning her eyes in the direction of Mr. McCullagh, and withdrawing them again with a slow irrepressible smile, 'a certain likeness. Yes, certainly your father does resemble the Dean.''I suppose we had better go soon.''Yes; there may come a change any minute.'To have seen the way in which Mr. McCullagh refused to eat in that house, any one might have imagined bread was five shillings a loaf and butter a guinea a pound. Even the cup of tea he drank, with little sugar and no milk, seemed swallowed under protest.'Ye've no call to attempt this sort of thing,' was evidently that gentleman's opinion; and with the same genial spirit he looked askance at the snowy curtains and the vases filled with flowers, and the little nicknacks, relics of a former time and station; at the beautiful lace Mrs. Lilands wore round her throat and wrists; at the rings that glistened on her wasted fingers; at her jewelled watch and valuable chain; at a crayon portrait of Janey, when she was five years of age; and an old, old pug, fat, dull, and almost blind, that lay on a cushion in the corner, and took no notice of Mr. McCullagh or anything else, till Janey poured him out a saucer of milk, when he awoke, and lapped it up, and then, coiling himself round, went instantly to sleep again.Everything which was worst in Mr. McCullagh's nature--meanest, most suspicious--sprang into life on the occasion of that ill-starred visit; but he retained his resolution to the last, and parted with Mrs. Lilands on terms apparently of the greatest cordiality. In bidding him farewell, and making a futile attempt to rise in order to do honour to so distinguished a guest, she upset a whole cup of tea over her dress, which was of silk and still handsome; and Mr. McCullagh could but consider it another crime on the part of Janey that she took this accident as a trifle not worth making any fuss concerning; merely soothing her mother, and trying to divert her attention by calling Robert to her side.'Upon my saul, that's a nice sort o' hornet's nest my lad has got himself into now!' thought the wary Scotchman, as, with a feeling of intense personal relief, he found himself once more in the little hall, with the door wide open, and Milly standing at the gate, which she had unlocked, to afford them egress.'I'm no for walking back, Robert,' said Mr. McCullagh, as they paced together along the dusty road. 'I'll make the best of my way to the station. Which direction are ye bound for?''I shall cut across to Stepney,' answered his son, 'after I have seen you to the train.''All right,' agreed Mr. McCullagh; and they walked on for a short distance in total silence.At last Robert could bear it no longer, and began,'Well, sir?''Weel, Robert?''What do you think of Miss Lilands?''I haven't thought much about her?''Don't you consider her very handsome, sir?''She's no that ill-favoured,' conceded Mr. McCullagh.'And don't you agree with me she is a girl any man might be proud and happy to call wife?''H'm! that depends, ye see.''What does it depend on, sir?''Whether a man is wise or a fool.''I can't imagine what you mean.''Why, I just mean this, Robert--that any man who would marry Janey, as ye call her, must be out of his mind.''Then I am out of mine!' said Robert hotly.'Do ye tell me seriously that ye mean to wed the daughter of that madwoman?''Mrs. Lilands is not mad. She had a fit last winter, which affected her mind a little; but--''Hoots!' interrupted Mr. McCullagh indignantly; 'if they have taken ye in, it is no reason why they should take me in. I am not blaming ye, remember. Ye're not the first, any more nor ye'll be the last, that has been caught by a pretty face; and I'll do the best I can to help ye out of the mess ye've got into. But ye must do your part. Ye must say good-bye as civilly as may be; and never enter the-house again.''Never enter the house again!' repeated the young man, as if stupefied. 'Say good-bye civilly! Why should I do either, sir?''Because ye don't want to marry the daughter of a lunatic, and yon woman is just as mad as any poor creature in Bedlam. She oughtn't to be left at loose; it's no safe. I'm sure I just sat on thorns the whole time we were there. Ye can't understand, Robert, because maybe ye've never seen the like before; but I have. There lived a woman called auld Betty in Greenock when I was a boy; and though, as a rule, she was counted harmless enough, ye'd only to offend her, and she'd up with a knife, or poker, or hammer, or anything that came handy, and fly at ye like a wild cat.''But there is nothing of that sort the matter with Mrs. Lilands,' remonstrated Robert.'It's no to be imagined what may be the matter with her,'

retorted Mr. McCullagh. 'Ye may thank your lucky stars ye took your father out there this day. Leave it all to me, and I'll get ye rid of the trouble ye've made for yourself. It's just a thing impossible ye can marry a madwoman's daughter.''But Mrs. Lilands is not mad,' persisted Robert; 'and even if she were, there is nothing the matter with her daughter.''There is nothing the matter with her at present, as far as I can see,' admitted Mr. McCullagh; 'but neither you nor I nor anybody else could say for how long she might stay safe. That sort of thing runs in the blood--ay, from generation to generation. The wife ye marry may die in a madhouse, and the child born to ye grow a raving lunatic. It's just the one thing, Robert, of which I have a dread unspeakable. Don't answer me now, for I know what ye're going to say, and it is best for ye not to speak the words. Think the matter over quietly, and then come to me, and we'll talk about what's best to be done.''There is only one thing, sir, to be done,' answered Robert, 'and I mean to do it--namely, marry Miss Lilands the moment she consents to go to church with me.''Then all I have got to say is, ye'll have the whole of your life to repent in. No, ye'd better go your own way now; don't come any further with me. We'll only make one another worse if we argue the matter any longer. Ye'll maybe look at things from another light in the morning; at any rate, I hope ye will, with all my heart and soul. Fare ye well, and mind my last words--don't be in too great a hurry to tie a knot with your tongue ye can't loose with your teeth.'Robert made no audible answer to this conciliatory speech. Turning away without any formal leave-taking, he muttered a remark under his breath, the precise terms of which it was, on the whole, fortunate his father failed to hear.CHAPTER XXV.
THE WORM TURNS.A YEAR does not seem a long space of time to look back upon: as a rule, into twelve months many great events are not crowded. In even a shorter period, it is true, we may lose our money, be bereft of those we love, form fresh ties, leave country, home, and kindred; but, taking life round, the chances and changes of existence are distributed pretty evenly over its surface. It does not happen to many men to marry and stand by a wife's death-bed within three hundred and sixty-five days; in a like space of time to make a fortune and see it vanish; to become attached to a friend and prove him false; to achieve reputation and find it burst like a bubble. No one of these things chanced to Mr. McCullagh; and yet he regarded, and perhaps not without reason, the year following his introduction to Miss Lilands as one of the most eventful in his experience.During the course of it his son Kenneth and Mrs. Kenneth came to London for what the happy pair called 'a jaunt.' It was not their wedding tour, which had been taken through Wales. They were married at Liverpool, whither Mr. McCullagh proceeded in order to be present at the ceremony; winning golden opinions from the bride and the bride's mother by reason of a handsome present he 'took down in his hand' for the former. After the cheque such generosity had not been expected; and it was received, not merely as a graceful attention in itself, but as the probable precursor of other and larger benefactions to follow.It was in August the married couple came to London; in that month when town is hotter, duller, emptier, and more stuffy than at almost any other period. The time suited young McCullagh's business engagements, however, and Mrs. Kenneth was well content to get an outing on any terms. Mr. McCullagh, hearing of their project, invited them to stay in Basinghall-street, but they declined this offer on the plea of being afraid of 'putting him out.''Ye'd no have put me out,' said Mr. McCullagh when re-

ferring to the matter vivâ voce, 'but ye might yourselves!' for it did not take him long to discover that Mrs. Kenneth's object in going to an hotel was to enable her to enjoy full and unfettered liberty.And indeed I'm jest as well pleased to be spared a sight of their fooling,' remarked Mr. McCullagh to Miss Nicol. 'I could not have believed, if I had not seen it, that a man and woman would make such edeots of themselves. It's "my dear" this, and "my love" the other, and "darling" and "ducky," and "tiny " and "pet," and all the rest of it, over the most ordinary observations of life. He called her "my lily" the other day, and the woman like a peony! She is remarkably plain, Janet, in my opinion.''They might not have been so ready to let Kenneth have her if she'd chanced to be well favoured,' observed Miss Nicol, who now never missed a chance of rapping her kinsman over the knuckles.'As for that, I'm sure I can't answer,' he said; 'but as she is, she's no catch unless she's a good deal wiser than she looks.''She has sense enough to take care of herself, I'll go bail,' observed Miss Nicol, who had already essayed one passage of arms with the new wife, and come off the field worsted.'Maybe so, maybe so,' agreed Mr. McCullagh; ' but that's no exactly a sin, Janet.''I never said it was,' she retorted. 'It would be bad manners for me to "even" such a thing in this house.'Which speech was the more cruel as certainly Mr. McCullagh, if he was capable of taking care of himself, had during the course of his life taken kindly care of many another.He did not speak for a minute, and she thought the shot had told, whereas he scarcely heard her. He happened to be thinking of something which had annoyed him 'beyond reason;' something which, in fact, he felt he could not mention even to Janet.It was a simple enough incident too. On the previous day he went to the London and Westminster Bank to cash 'across the counter' a cheque concerning the payment of which he 'felt a misgiving.' He had received it from a fresh customer, whose ways he 'couldna quite understand.' Spite of his doubts he got the money, and that without the paying clerk ' looking back;' and having placed the amount, which was considerable, in his pocket-book, he was 'just gaeing down the step or two'

when 'who should he see coming along but Kenneth and his wife.'They were 'close upon him in a second of time.' Both their mouths were full; the husband was carrying a paper bag, which she whipped out of his hand and offered to Mr. McCullagh saying, as well as what she was eating would let her, 'Have one, papa, do.'When 'papa' afterwards recalled the scene he felt his face colouring up with shame; for there was 'a wheen of people about, and many a one who knew him, and he could feel that most of them turned round to look. And there was she, with her bonnet hanging on the back of her head, and her face, red by nature, redder with sunburn; and Kenneth, with a piece of chocolate in his cheek, grinning at her like a fool; and me,' finished Mr. McCullagh, in an agony of recollection, 'me standing there in the busiest time of the day, being offered one of the things which she held 'twixt her finger and thumb.'Little wonder that, after this experience recurred to memory, Mr. McCullagh should observe mournfully,'They've no more sense nor manners than a couple of children.''Well, well,' said Miss Nicol airily, 'never mind what they do. When Robert marries Miss Lilands, she'll show us all the way.'It was a sharp cut, and she meant it to be so; but she missed her mark, for Mr. McCullagh parried the thrust with admirable coolness.'When he does I hope she'll show us some better sort of way. I'm sure and certain nothing could be much worse than Mrs. Kenneth.'That lady had indeed proved a sore disappointment to 'papa,' as she affectionately called her husband's father. He dreaded the sight of her. Not merely did she insist on kissing him--an attention to which, as he truly said, 'he wasna used'--
but she had ways of sitting on the arm of his chair, and stroking his straight sandy hair, and taking hold of his arm, and going through other performances of a like nature, which proved very effective when practised on Mr. Johnston, but drove Mr. McCullagh to the verge of frenzy.'That'll do, that'll do,' he was in the habit of remonstrating when she became desperately demonstrative; or he would inquire, 'Can't ye find a chair for your wife, Kenneth?' or suggest that the weather was warm, and maybe they'd both, he and

she, be more comfortable if she sat a bit further off. But it was not of the slightest use; she could not or she would not see what he meant. She professed to believe he was devoted to her. She was in the habit of asking, ' Aren't you delighted to have a daughter at last?' and of declaring gushingly, 'She had now two papas; and that she often told her first papa and Kenneth if they did not treat her very well indeed, and give her everything she wanted, she would go to Basinghall-street, and never, never return to Liverpool.'On all of which utterances her husband hung with rapture, while Mr. McCullagh, looking from one to the other, lost himself in speculations as to which was the greater fool.As to Robert, there had been a misunderstanding between the brothers that led to some very angry,words indeed. Arm-in-arm Kenneth and his wife had proceeded to Pousnetts'; and clamoured--so the new partner phrased it--to see him. Within those decorous precincts Mrs. Kenneth, indeed, caused quite a disturbance. Never before had such giggling and such talking been heard at Pousnetts'. Mr. Pousnett himself chanced to be passing through the outer office while Mrs. Kenneth was assuring a demure clerk that if he would only tell her brother they were there he would see them instantly.With a cold stare Mr. Pousnett surveyed the lady; and, himself proceeding to Robert's room, took the gentleman he was talking to off his hands, and, cruelly civil, begged Mr. McCullagh not to keep his relations waiting.When he saw them, he felt he had never been so much ashamed in all his life. Mrs. Kenneth, if not actually attired in her wedding-dress, wore something as nearly approaching bridal costume as she could well wear about London. Her silk gown was of a pale-fawn colour, she had a white shawl dropping off her shoulders, while her bonnet was white also, and adorned with the very lightest blush-rose that ever came out of a milliner's shop. She was a young woman whose peculiar style of beauty-shall we call it?--required every sort of toning down to reduce it to anything like quietness and propriety; and Robert's feelings of horror may be imagined when this pronounced creature--'figged out,' as he remarked to his father afterwards, 'like a 1st of May Queen'--embraced him rapturously, and remarked, loud enough for the clerks in the next office to hear, that she had been 'wearying' to see him, for 'I can tell ye there's been no small talk about you down in Liverpool.'It was awful. Robert felt as though he never again could

hold up his head at Pousnetts'. If his brother had not accompanied her he would have told some wild untruth to explain her visit, but Kenneth there was no getting over. He had to accept his sister-in-law, who said frankly, 'You are far and away handsomer than I expected;' and told her husband as they walked back to their hotel that' it was lucky she hadn't seen Robert first, or maybe he (Kenneth) would never have got her'--an observation she considered a good joke, but which was not, perhaps, on the whole calculated to make the happy man feel more friendly towards his elder brother.This incursion so alarmed Mr. Pousnett's junior partner that the very same evening he went to Holborn, not for any friendly visit, but to inform Kenneth he couldn't and he wouldn't
 have him and his wife coming to the office. A very pretty quarrel ensued, which ,Mrs. Kenneth insisted on referring to Mr. McCullagh; asking him, in her gushing childlike fashion, 'if it was not too bad and disagreeable of his naughty, naughty son.'To her astonishment, Mr. McCullagh said he thought Robert was in the right.'Ye'd no call, Kenneth,' he declared, 'to go to Leaden-hall-street yourself, let alone your wife with ye. It's no like a plain sort of business house, where a friend or two dropping in and out can make no sort of difference. I'm chary of intruding there myself, though I'm on the best of terms with Mr. Pousnett; and as for Janet, she'd no more dream of stepping across the threshold and asking for Robert than she'd think of flying to the moon. Ye should have had more sense, man. It's not Robert's own place--he's a mere minnow in it among big fish; and ye might have known it was not just fitting to take a woman into a strange house o' business, where there are a heap o' clerks and all sorts of folks to be attended to. I don't wonder a bit at his being vexed; for indeed, to speak my mind plain, I don't consider the City quite the place for ladies at all. Females are best whiles to stop at home quiet; men don't want them about when they're doing their day's work. They are in the way, and in my opinion they're best liked when they have discernment enough to keep out of it.'This utterance was plain enough in all conscience; it was so plain, indeed, Kenneth for a minute sat aghast. Even his wife could not fail to understand her new papa's meaning; but at last, with an engaging titter, she remarked, 'London seemed to her a strange sort of place, where relations did not

make even their own kith and kin welcome,' and suggested to Kenneth that the sooner they got back to Liverpool where some people had made strangers very welcome, the better his father and brother and all the rest of them would be pleased. After which statement Mrs. Kenneth burst into tears, and Mr. McCullagh walked out of the room, merely pausing at the door to observe, 'Ye needn't take on in that way. So far as I am aware, nobody wants to be rid of ye.'To Robert he was even more explicit.'Why didn't ye come to me,' he asked, 'instead of kicking up the deil's own diversion with Kenneth? "Ye didn't mean him to tell his wife," is that what ye say? Don't ye know he's just the sort likely to run to her with any story she oughtn't to hear? It is reasonable enough that ye shouldn't want her going after ye to Pousnetts', but ye might have spoken to your brother civilly. Let the woman be what she will, she's his wife, and they're decent folk, the Johnstons, and the sort it's ill to offend. I am sure I've had to put up with enough since they came to London, and who ever heard me complain? Such carryings on,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh, forgetting his customary prudence in the delight of having at length an auditor into whose sympathetic ears he could pour his plaint, 'I never before did see; such a pair of edeots, married or single, I never came across before, and I trust to the Lord I never may again. Ye may think ye're beheld them at their worst, lad, but ye know nothing about it, nothing at all. Ye should be here for a day, or spend an evening with them at their hawtel. Why, I was given to understand the girl was a douce, quiet, sensible, sonsy sort of a lassie. To hear her father talk, I'm sure I thought the trouble would be to get her to talk, and at the wedding she hadn't a word to say for herself. I could scarce make out that she answered the questions right; but, my faith, all the bother now is to make her hold her tongue. However,' added Mr. McCullagh, suddenly remembering himself, 'there she is, and she brought a heap of good fortune to Kenneth, and we must make the best of her.''You may, sir,' answered Robert, with undutiful frankness, 'but I never will. Good Heavens, because a man has a brother is he to be dragged down by a woman like that, and made a common laughing-stock in his own office? No, I'll have nothing to do with her, not if I was fifty times fonder of Kenneth than I ever was or am ever likely to become.''Weel, weel,' said Mr. McCullagh soothingly, 'if ye can't

agree with her ye'd best stay separate; but it's no harder on you, Robert, than it's on me. It's not so hard. The one thing I did hope was that if any of ye married ye'd take up with some mild homelike girl there'd be a bit of pleasure seeing about a house; and now, d'ye know, it was no further gone than this morning, I sat wondering what sin I'd committed that such a judgment should fall upon me, as one son setting his fancy on the daughter of a madwoman, and the other foregathering with a wife who--God forgive me for saying it!--seems little better nor a madwoman herself.''If you can see no difference between Miss Lilands and Mrs. Kenneth McCullagh--' Robert was beginning, with a lofty contempt, when his father interrupted him.'O, there's a difference, I admit, but there's no odds, for all that; only maybe ye're for running your head into a worse hole than Kenneth has done. In the one case it'll be a want of wits that's the matter, and she may mend when she settles down a bit and gets a family of children round her; but in yours, Robert, never a better can come of it. Ay, worse and worse; too much wit gone all agee, and ending most likely in raving lunacy; with never a penny at the back of it to pay for keepers or even a strait-jacket.'Hot and strong was the reply which rose to Robert's lips, but he bit it back. He knew quite well all the doctors in England could not have convinced Mr. McCullagh Mrs. Lilands was other than a fit candidate for Bedlam; indeed, in that gentleman's opinion, she ought to have been conducted thither a long time previously.Mr. McCullagh had seen Janey three times since that first unfortunate interview, and it may safely be said that, so far from his dislike to her undergoing any diminution, it had increased fourfold.Though good care was taken to keep Mrs. Lilands out of his way, it was impossible to ignore the fact that she was in the house, and that Janey had often to leave her guests and 'see what mamma wanted.' The unfailing cheerfulness, the wonderful courage, the marvellous light-heartedness the girl brought to her daily task, instead of causing her to find favour in Mr. McCullagh's eyes, constituted separate sins to his hard-judging mind.It was unseemly, he reflected, for her to be bright and lively, under the weight of such a cross; she could not have much heart, or the bare thought of owning such a mother must

have 'damped her spirits.' No doubt she felt 'well set up' to have 'so fine a jo' as Robert; but for his part he, Mr. McCullagh, would have thought better of her if' her voice hadn't been just so clear and her words so ready.'In the face of an awful misfortune like that which had befallen Mrs. Lilands, he held 'a certain decent mournfulness would have been more beseeming.' Miss Lilands ' was just too much at her ease' to please him; some 'young ensign in a marching regiment would, he considered, have been more in her way.' 'She's not our sort, Robert,' he remarked on one occasion, 'and I conceder ye're clean beside yourself to think ye'll get a pheasant o' the woods to content herself among such common barn-door fowls as we are.'To which Robert replying that his father did not understand Janey, Mr. McCullagh retorted with a considerable amount of truth that, in his humble opinion, Robert did not understand her either.Had any one told 'plain auld Rab' jealousy was at the bottom of his hatred of Miss Lilands, he would have scoffed at the idea; and yet it is most certain he did feel that ignoble sentiment. In his heart he believed Janey would remove his son further from him than he stood already.'She has the Pousnett kind of talk,' he reflected, 'and the same uppish way with her. 'Uppish! Janey Lilands uppish! And as for the other charge against the girl, her talk was but the sort she had been accustomed to, though it dealt with a world outside of that Mr. McCullagh had lived in, and adventured on themes to which the old house in Basinghall-street had long been a stranger.No man would more resolutely have rebelled against the insinuation that his opinions could be swayed by worldly success, or worldly failure, than Mr. McCullagh. He would, indeed, have quarrelled incontinently with any one who had ventured to suggest such a weakness; nevertheless, to mention that pecuniary matters did influence him materially, is but to state that he was human. Like the rest of us, he was wont quite unconsciously to argue that what was not in a person could not come out of him; in other words, that if any one were other than clever and capable, persevering, and possessed of the various gifts which are needful for getting on in this life, he would. most likely stay where he began; unless, indeed, he sank a good deal lower in the social scale.Until quite lately he had never thought his first-born either

clever or specially capable; but there could be no doubt that, from the time the Pousnett partnership was mooted, a change came o'er the spirit of his dreams.'Though the lad was never sharp and pawky like his brothers,' he considered, 'he must have something in him. And I will say this for Robert, he's pleasanter in some of his ways than his brothers; he's no so set up as David, and he's not for aye hankering after the main chance like Kenneth, and certainly he's not near so ill to control as Angus, and he's improving, he has improved; and if it was not for this confounded match, that'll be the ruin of him, I couldna well prophesy what height he mightn't rise to, for he's respected in the City, I can see. Lord! any man lucky enough to get hold of a partnership in such a house ought to have the ball at his feet.'And now Robert was going to fling all his chances away and marry the daughter of a woman 'no in her right mind,' and possessed of no fortune; and who, though she might have come of grand enough people, had nothing to do with them, 'or, as I should say,' amended Mr. McCullagh, 'they've nothing to do with her.'It was dreadful, it was heart-rending. When, during the course of the September of that year, Mr. Pousnett invited Mr. McCullagh to come down to his place on the Thames to stop from Saturday till Monday, the Scotchman eagerly accepted an invitation which he felt to be 'clean out of his way,' upon the chance that some opportunity might present itself for enlisting the senior partner's sympathies against the match.'The grandeur of that house,' he observed afterwards, 'is just beyond belief. Portman-square I thought a heap of, but it can't hold a candle to Larchwater, as they call yon place up the river. Why, it's just unimaginable! Lawns, and terraces, and verandahs, and gardens, and hot-houses, and men-servants, and maid-servants, and boats for the young gentlemen--and, my faith, the ladies can take an oar with the best--and a sort o' state barge for picnics and suchlike, and carriages and horses, and the best in the land visiting them. I had no notion the Pousnetts had got up to such a height till I saw them what Mrs. Pousnett calls "quietly at home." Quiet! Well, maybe so, for they don't seem to put themselves out much, no matter who comes. Why, there was an old lord there, and they made no more to do with him than I might with Kenneth's father-in-law--less, indeed. They just left him to go about as he liked,

and without any conceit I may say Mr. Pousnett paid me a greater amount of attention than he did "my lord."'In fact they were all pleasant; I could not say one was kinder nor another. They took me on the river, and they walked with me to the village, where the Miss Pousnetts wanted some fal-lals; and they plucked me flowers, and they gathered me fruit, and they sang for me; and me, and the lord, and Mr. Pousnett, and the clergyman had a snug rubber together, and I won twenty shillings; that'll more than pay my travelling and what I bestowed on the servants. And when we went to church we had a small gallery all to ourselves, hung round with red curtains that closed us right in till Mr. Pousnett made a parting in the middle, so that we could get a "keek" at the minister and the congregation. We went into this gallery under a wee low doorway that we had to climb up winding steps to get at, and we didn't pass through the church at all. There is a private entrance from Larchwater to the graveyard, and then we went to a postern-gate of which Mr. Pousnett had the key. My word, folks like that have a grand time of it in this world! I wondered, as I looked at the tombstones coming out, they could bear to see them; but it was little enough the young ladies seemed thinking of death or judgment, or anything but amusement. The way they got on with that old lord was over imagination. At first I made sure he would be offended with their making so free, and, indeed, to speak within the mark, having their diversion out of him; but no, he seemed to enjoy the fun and merriment as he might if he had been as young as he is old; and it is beyond me to say how old he is. Such chaffing and laughing while we were going back to luncheon! The sermon didn't benefit any of them a bit, I'm thinking. Ay! yon would not be a bad sort of life if a body could rid oneself o the notion of there being any responsibility, here or hereafter.'It was in a variety of detached utterances that Mr. McCullagh delivered himself of the foregoing remarks to Miss Nicol. He felt very much uplifted at having been down to Larchwater; and the reader may be quite sure every friend and foe to whom the Scotchman spoke for a month after knew of the fact. He had found the opportunity to speak that 'word which was on his mind' about Robert, and he was delighted to discover Mr. Pousnett more than reciprocated his feelings in the matter.'Going to marry! Are you sure?' and Mr. Pousnett stood

quite still in the middle of a walk on the brink of the river as he put his question.'Ay, and he's just that keen on to take his own way, it's no use my trying to, put in a friendly oar,' said Mr. McCullagh, assisted perhaps to this last figure of speech by the sight of an outrigger spinning down with the stream.'But it is simply suicidal.''That's just my opinion,' agreed Roberts parent.'He's mad; he must be mad!' exclaimed Mr. Pousnett. 'What can he be thinking of?''I'm certain I can't tell ye. The girl is well enough looking, I don't deny that; and she comes of a grand family,' added Mr. McCullagh, with a little conscious pride. 'But what are good looks if there is nothing at the back of them? and it might puzzle any one to tell the use of big connections when the money is gone which might have enabled people to keep pace with them.''You speak like an oracle,' said Mr. Pousnett, too much in earnest for the slightest trace of sarcasm to underlie his words. 'You perhaps remember the old jingle which has so much truth in it:
"They talk of dimples and what not;But dimples will not boil the pot."
And that is a lamentable fact.''It is a fact at any rate,' agreed Mr. McCullagh.'Your son ought not to marry yet. He is in a transition state, and can scarcely tell for some time what he may or may not be able to do. How does he propose to support a wife? Of course his share in our business is very small; and though I have done the best I can for him, I am not at all prepared to put him on a better footing because he chooses to encumber his career with a pretty face. Perhaps, however,' added Mr. Pousnett, 'you are going to make a settlement on the young couple. That of course would prove a pleasant solution of all difficulties.''Me! Is it me you mean!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh.'Me who, for the first time in all my business experience, have been losing money this year; yes, losing it, Mr. Pousnett. I'll no say I shall come out very bad when I strike my next balance-sheet; but I've had a lot to contend with--ay, and still have. My faith, this is scarce a time to talk on settlements and suchlike. No, no: if Robert chooses to make a rough bed for

himself, he'll have to content himself as best he can, for I'm no going to help with that housekeeping.''I had no notion,' observed Mr. Pousnett, 'he had any idea of the kind in his head. I remember asking him last year if he were attached to any one, and he said no; he had never seen a woman he cared much for in his life. Fact is, I noticed a face at one of your windows, and marvelled if he was enamoured of it.''That's a match I would have liked well enough once,' groaned Mr. McCullagh, 'and I hinted as much; but Robert wouldn't hear of it. Now I mind me, he wanted somebody that could converse better nor Effie. My word, if he marries this girl he won't be dull for want of the clatter of a woman's tongue.''She talks, does she?''Ay, indeed, your own daughters haven't more to say!'Mr. Pousnett smiled, but nevertheless he did not look particularly well pleased.'I must speak to your son,' he declared. ' Do you mean to tell me that he has an idea of marrying soon?''He does just so. He intends, so he says, to go to church with her before Christmas; and I must express my opinion that I think it would be more ladylike and fitting of her to hold back a little when she knows I am averse to the match. I told her I did not like it, in so many words.''And what did she reply?' asked Mr. Pousnett, not without some natural curiosity.'O, as ye might expect, she wrapped her answer up in a heap of tinsel and silver, and put it together very neatly; but the gist of the whole thing was that, however sorry she might be I did not like her, she and Robert intended to take one another for better, for worse.''Strong-minded?' suggested Mr. Pousnett.'Yes: I think she's a bit that way. At first she wouldn't hear of marrying. Couldn't leave her mother, and all the rest of it; but they've made it up that she needn't leave the mother--that, in plain English, she's to be a part and parcel of the household.''Then the rash husband won't have to go beyond the doorstep to look for his punishment,' said Mr. Pousnett, with grim pleasantry.'I don't think he will,' agreed Mr. McCullagh, a good deal of the Psalmist spirit when inveighing against his enemies stirring within him as he spoke.'I must talk to your son,' repeated Mr. Pousnett. 'I think I have that to say which ought to cause him to pause, at any rate.''Lord send ye may do some good!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh piously.'And now let us go in to breakfast,' said Mr. Pousnett.It was on the Monday morning of that delightful visit these confidences were made and listened to; and it was on Monday afternoon Mr. Pousnett sought his young partner, and asked whether he had taken leave of his senses.'Situated as you are,' he reminded Robert, 'you have no right even to think of a wife. Take my advice, and get rid of some of your encumbrances before you saddle yourself with another. If you must marry, choose some one whose dot will rid you of Snow. In Heaven's name how can you dream of incurring all the risks and expenses attendant on matrimony, when you know how hard you are likely to find it to provide funds for your half-yearly payments?'It was then the worm at last turned. Robert turned, and civilly told Mr. Pousnett that he had no right to dictate to him whether he should take a wife or remain single.They had a great deal of talk, none of which was very pleasant; but the junior partner stuck to his text--Janey Lilands had agreed to marry him, and neither his father nor anybody else should prevent Robert marrying her. They were content to begin housekeeping on a very modest scale.'When people are fond of each other,' finished the young man, who had not quite outgrown the age of platitudes, 'it is astonishing what they can put up with.''When people have no money and are deeply in debt besides, it is astonishing what they have to put up with,' amended Mr. Pousnett; which truism was his contribution to the wedding-presents.CHAPTER XXVI.
THE WEDDING.ERE Christmas came round again Mr. Alfred Mostin had managed in 'establishing,' as he called it, the Seidlitz Powder Company and the Anglo-Irish Lace Association, to lose not only all his own small amount of money, but a considerable amount belonging to other people. And after all neither business was established, except in the Gazette, whither Mr. Mostin had drifted through the medium of the Insolvent Court. In that time the amount of indebtedness he had managed to incur, without doing the slightest good to himself or any one else, was simply marvellous. Scarcely a newspaper in the kingdom but figured in the list of his creditors. Wholesale druggists, fancy-box manufacturers, lithographers, printers, banks, friends, acquaintances, all--all had a place in his schedule, which, on the liability side, was of appalling length. As to the assets, they were so nearly nil--consisting merely of stock which was valueless, and a few book debts which were irrecoverable--that, as there appeared to be little or nothing to pay any one for the trouble of opposing or investigating, Mr. Mostin speedily came out of the court as thoroughly 'whitewashed' as was possible under the circumstances; and being quite relieved from all encumbrances, could immediately have commenced his old career again had it been possible for him to get credit.But his last failure was too recent and his collapse too complete. He had not a sixpence to go on with; he did not feel inclined to borrow (?) from his cousin, even had Mr. Robert McCullagh been able and willing to lend; and he must have sunk to those depths of penury and makeshift about which a man never tells afterwards if he ever emerges from their darkness, had not his friend in Bush-lane at this juncture stepped forward and found him a berth.'Now remember you must try to keep it,' said Mr. Snow.Alf Mostin grinned.'There is a humour about the affair which is irresistible,'

he answered. 'Yes, even for the sport I will endeavour to retain the situation.'Mr. Snow looked him over thoughtfully, from his shabby boots to his frayed shirt-collar, from the worn bottoms of his trousers to his cheeks, which a compulsory residence in the 'Cripplegate Hotel,' and subsequent poor living since he left "Higgs's' as that palatial residence was playfully termed, had rendered somewhat pale and hollow; then the money-lender's face relaxed, and he smiled in spite of himself.'You are a funny dog, and a clever,' he said; 'but I am afraid you are too old ever to learn the trick of doing much good for yourself or anybody else.'I quite agree with you there.''But seriously, you know, the sort of thing you are so fond of can't go on for ever. You have had a wonderful escape this time, but I shouldn't advise you to try the same game again with the expectation of getting through so easily.''Am I not going to take a man's wages and sell myself to him for forty shillings a week?' asked Mr. Mostin gravely, by way of reply.'It is not a bad salary as times go,' remarked Mr. Snow, answering the manner rather than the words.'I shall be very glad to receive the first instalment, I can tell you.''Here is something to help you on till you get it,' said Mr. Snow, pushing a sovereign across to where Alfred stood.The coin lay golden and smiling on the table one moment; it was gone the next. If you had not kept your eye fastened as firmly on Mr. Mostin's movements as the Irish peasant finds it necessary to fix that slippery customer the 'leprachaun,' you could never have told the precise moment when Mr. Snow's sovereign disappeared into the snug solitude of Alfred Mostin's left-hand waistcoat-pocket.'Going to the wedding?' inquired Mr. Snow carelessly, after he had watched this proceeding, with the details of which he was conversant.'What wedding?' returned Mr. Mostin more abruptly even than usual.'Your cousin Robert's, next Wednesday week.''No, I am not. I was not asked, and if I had been I should not have gone. But how does it happen you know anything about the matter? Did Bob tell you?''Bob, as you call him, told me some time ago,' agreed Mr.

Snow, speaking with grave distinctness. 'Moreover, he asked me to give away the bride.''No, surely not!' and there was a tone of appeal as well as of incredulity, in Alf Mostin's voice.Mr. Snow reddened. He knew well enough the cause of that impulsive remonstrance; and because he did, Mr. Mostin's words, all unpremeditated as they were, touched his vanity in its most sensitive part.But he was far too wise to enter into that question, and, annoyed though he undoubtedly felt, he continued calmly,'And what is more, I am going to do so.''You are?''Yes. I am in reality so very much a father, that it will not be difficult for me to act the part for once.'Mr. Snow spoke easily and with a smile, which, however, evoked no corresponding brightness on Mr. Mostin's face.Quite involuntarily that gentleman drew a chair towards him and sat down, as though the weight of Mr. Snow's intelligence was heavier than he could support standing. Then ensued total silence for a minute, at the end of which time Alf Mostin remarked, as if in soliloquy,'He might have let me do that, I think.''So I think,' answered Mr. Snow; 'but, then, you see, he did not.'Perhaps it was because this statement chanced to be undeniably true that Mr. Mostin did not reply to it.'When I saw him first,' went on Mr. Snow, 'you and your cousin seemed on the most intimate terms. Something has come between you. What is it?''He has got up in the world, or at least,' added Alf, mindful of a quizzical look in Mr. Snow's eyes,' he thinks he has.''And you?''I have gone down, or, at least, he thinks I have,' said the other, repeating his former sentence with a difference. 'And perhaps he is about right there.''O, that's the way of it, is it? I thought perhaps you might have been offering him some unpalatable advice.''I! No, I am not much given to advising anybody; though, now you mention the matter, I certainly did counsel him to keep clear of you and not to make love to Miss Lilands.''It would be unfair to ask why you warned him to avoid me; but I should like to know what objection you found to

Miss Lilands, a lady on whose behalf you have exerted yourself most strenuously.''I have no objection to her,' said Mr. Mostin; 'but I considered she was not of his rank, and I still think so; further, I am sure when she marries him she will throw herself away. Miss Lilands' husband ought to be better born, and a good deal richer, than my cousin Robert.'Mr. Snow looked at the speaker compassionately.'Will you permit me to remark,' he said, 'that there is no point on which more nonsense is talked than that of girls throwing themselves away? There are cases, I grant you,' he went on hurriedly, seeing his visitor about to interpose, 'when the phrase is not merely admissible, but appropriate--say when an heiress marries a fortune-hunter, or the squire's only daughter runs away with his groom; but, as a rule, the choice a girl makes is just about the best she is likely to get--in plain words, if she does not marry when she can, she is most likely never to marry at all.''Then in this case she had better not marry at all,' remarked Mr. Mostin doggedly.'I really cannot agree with you. I see nothing against your cousin. He is not very bright, to be sure; but he is as clever as ninety-nine out of a hundred. He is young, good-looking, well-mannered; if he has not much money, he is partner in a good house; he is fond of the girl. In Heaven's name, what more would you have?''I would have him worthy of such a prize.''Yes, that's all very fine; but where is any one, in your
 opinion, worthy to be found? She might marry a curate, or a doctor, or a clerk in the Civil Service; but I confess I cannot but think that Mr. Robert McCullagh, a partner in Pousnetts' house, is a more eligible husband than any of these.''Though you know how he is situated?' asked Alfred Mostin, with a sneer.'Though my books say how deeply he is in my debt. He will work himself off them in time.''He may perhaps,' said the other, in a manner which implied he, at least, never expected to hear of such a termination.'Your cousin does not look at his position with the same eyes as you,' retorted Mr. Snow; 'for it is in the character of his best friend he has asked me to assume the part of Miss Janey's father.''And it was I brought you two together; and it was I introduced him to Miss Lilands,' said Mr. Mostin.'Well, I hope you will never have cause to repent either act,' observed Mr. Snow cheerfully. 'Your cousin is so honest and hard-working, I think he ought to succeed with the help I was able to get him; and, from what I have seen of Miss Lilands, I am sure she will prove an admirable wife.''Then you have seen her?' groaned Alf. 'I did trust--''What did you trust?' asked Mr. Snow, as Mr. Mostin paused suddenly.With his heart beating against Mr. Snow's sovereign, it was scarcely possible for the visitor to finish his sentence as under other circumstances he might have done; and he had to substitute for the words which were literally on his lips the tame remark, that he had hoped Robert would keep his house and his business separate.'Do you mean to imply that his business acquaintances are not good enough for his wife to know?''I mean nothing of the sort,' answered Mr. Mostin, though, indeed, this was exactly what he had in his mind.'Because, if an idea of the kind were troubling you, I can assure you it is most unlikely I shall in the future see anything of your cousin's wife, though he is partner in a big house. My way lies in quite another direction, socially. How I came to speak to her at all was that I wanted to know whether she were likely to impede or help him. In the first case, I should have stopped the match. Yes, you may shake your head, but I should. For the sake of no pretty face in the kingdom could I allow my thousands to be jeopardised. I found her a most sensible and right-minded young lady; so sensible, that, indeed, I asked if she had well considered what she was doing, and whether she thought her choice in all respects prudent and desirable. I ventured to point out that your cousin had only a small share in a house where there were many partners; that Mr. Pousnett was a gentleman likely to keep always the lion's share of the profits for himself and his sons; that she was marrying into a peculiar family, who having the most perverted tastes, did not want her; and that she might be placing a barrier against reconciliation at some future period between herself and her own friends by now forming an alliance with a man in trade. There are some persons who still look down upon the City, I explained--''Yes,' said Alfred Mostin; 'and she?''She did not say much, but it seemed to me sufficient. She had no friends,' she remarked. 'In time, perhaps, her husband's might look with different eyes upon her; and if not, why, they had never been very fond of him. She and Robert had only each other to think of and to study. She would do her best to make him happy; and as for him, he had always been so kind to her mother.''And was not I kind to the old witch too?' thought Alfred bitterly. 'Was it not I who went for the doctor that night? I who spent my time running all over London getting things to humour, her crazy fads? Did not I persuade Mr. Lilands to pay old Napier's bill, and suggest, as he would not make any settlement on the girl, he should insure her life against her mother's, so that she should not be left unprovided for? She blows nothing about that yet, to be sure; but still the fact remains. And now she is going to marry my fine cousin, who never would have been in Pousnett's house if I had not been such a fool as to help him compass his desires. And I'm not even asked to the wedding, and I suppose it would be considered too great a liberty if afterwards I was to call!'With a very fair comprehension of what was passing through his mind, Mr. Snow watched Mr. Mostin as he remained with his head drooped and his brows bent, contemplating the pattern of the oil-cloth, which formed a good sort of refrigerator for the feet of the money-lender's clients.'I'll tell you what I should do if I were in your place,' he said at length.Alf Mostin lifted his head and asked 'What?''You are going into an altogether fresh line of life. I would get a new suit of clothes--an entire rig out, in fact--and I'd try to turn over a new leaf. I hope you are not offended. Believe me, I speak only for your good.''It's astonishing that whenever a man says anything excessively unpleasant it always is for one's good,' observed Mr. Mostin; 'but, bless you, I'm not offended. I am grateful,' he added with a laugh. 'And so you think, Mr. Snow,' he went on, 'that a good coat on his back alters the nature of the man inside it, and that an irreproachable hat will furnish brains to the head it covers?''I would try the experiment, at any rate,' said Mr. Snow, wisely ignoring the argumentative gauntlet thrown down by his opponent.'Perhaps at the same time you can tell me of a confiding tailor who would provide the suit,' suggested Mr. Mostin.'Look here,' began Mr. Snow, resting both elbows on the table and joining his fingers together as he surveyed Alf Mostin with a glance in which liking, pity, reprobation, and contempt were about equally mingled, 'I am going to speak very plainly to you. I do not much care whether you are angry or not; but I won't see you drifting to destruction and not stretch out a warning hand. During the course of a year-or less than a year-six or eight months-you have managed to get into debt to an amount which, I confess, makes my hair stand on end.'Very gravely Mr. Mostin raised his eyes, and looked straight at Mr. Snow's head to see the phenomenon stated to be on view.It was aggravating; but that gentleman, having taken up his parable, meant to finish it.'Ever since I have known you the same result has followed the same cause; you have always been in pecuniary trouble, not a man who has trusted you but must have repented his credulity; and yet you have done no good for yourself. You have not lived well, or lodged well, or dressed well, or made purse; money seems literally to trickle through your fingers like water, and to leave behind it no trace whatever. Just as you have got into the way of wearing a bad coat, so you have got into the way of muddling your affairs. Now a clear road lies before you: on two pounds a week you ought to be able to live, lodge, clothe yourself like anybody else. I know men who are doing all these things on twenty shillings; but you will never compass any good till you give up the practice of trying to keep about a dozen irons hot. I tell you quite candidly that if you attempt the game of working a business for yourself while you are in the employment I have just obtained for you, I will wash my hands of you.''Now, if I only exactly understood what all this means,' soliloquised Mr. Mostin lazily; 'but there, Snow,' he added, seeing an expression in his mentor's face which indicated danger, 'don't let us quarrel. I admit there is a great deal of truth in what you say, and I will consider really whether I cannot renovate my outward man. At the same time I would have you remember I only failed in this last attempt for want of capital. With a thousand pounds at my back I could have made a splendid trade.''Rubbish !' ejaculated Mr. Snow.'I had orders--''I don't care what you had. You were over head and ears in debt, and so far as I could judge from the books you kept, or, rather, failed to keep, you never paid anybody.''I paid you,' retorted Mr. Mostin.'You did not pay me out of the profits of your business, at any rate,' returned Mr. Snow. 'However, as you say, we need not quarrel. I have given you fair warning, so if you manage to work yourself out of this situation, don't come to me, for I won't help you again.''It is quite the last chance, is it?''Quite;' and Mr. Snow beginning to lock up his drawers, which with him was an unfailing sign he considered the interview had lasted too long, Alfred Mostin said 'Good-day,' and left the presence-chamber with a smile hovering about his lips, which faded away as he walked up Bush-lane into Cannon-street, where he stood for a minute at the corner irresolute; then buttoning up his shabby top-coat, for it was a raw chilly day, and pulling his shabbier hat over his eyes, he set his face eastward, and strode off in the direction of Old Ford.Arrived there he paused at the familiar gate, and let his glance wander over the remembered garden. The flowers were dead and gone, there was not even a spray of mignonette remaining to tell of the perfume which had lingered there so long; the weed-like annuals lay sodden on the ground. The beds wanted clearing and forking over and putting into winter trim; but Alfred Mostin did not feel disposed to proffer his services for the purpose. His mood was in sympathy with the inanimate things that, once so beautiful, trailed dead and yellow on the earth, nipped by frost, sodden with rain. In their death and decay they did not look to the man leaning over the low fence more helpless and unlovely than the future of his own wrecked life; without making even an attempt to enter the house, he turned slowly away, and, walking across Hackney Marshes, soon found himself in a fog as congenial to that region as it proved at the moment to his own frame of mind.'If from the time I was five years of age,' he considered, 'I had saved up my halfpence and taken heed to my ways; had I drunk nothing stronger than tea; had I considered the opinions of my fellows, and developed into a respectable tradesman, should I have met Janey Lilands? No, I should not; so what is the use of troubling myself about what can't be helped now? Has a man power to alter his nature? I don't believe a word

of it. Did "plain auld Rab" endow himself with that bump of caution which has proved of such service? Can his son help being a conceited prig, or Snow a liar, or Pousnett a rogue, or I a fool? Absurd! We are born to limp through life, or squint at life, or make a good thing or a bad thing of it. We are unable to escape our fate; and it was mine, I suppose, to fall among thieves and bring my ungrateful cousin and Miss Janey together. I wonder how long it will be before she finds out her swan is but a commonplace goose?'From which transcript it will be seen that Mr. Mostin was in the habit, not merely of getting into pecuniary embarrassment, but also of indulging in mental speculations that he knew were dangerous and unsound all the time he was seeking consolation in them. A lonely unsuccessful man, a man most truly to be pitied; and yet, as he walked discontentedly along the path leading to Temple Mills, he had again, could he only have believed the fact, a fresh chance given him--the ball of life at his foot once more! The worst of people like Alfred Mostin is, they never recognise an opportunity till they have lost it. When a choice of ropes is offered them they always select that which turns out to be attached to nothing. The man does not live who could help, and the experience cannot be conceived which should teach, them.Though he had not been asked to the wedding, Robert's cousin decided to honour it with his presence, not, indeed, as a guest, but only in the character of a spectator. After a good deal of reflection he at length bethought him of a confiding tailor who, notwithstanding the drawbacks that very short time was given to complete the order, and that six months was mentioned as the earliest period in which payment could be expected, clothed Mr. Mostin in such splendour as that gentleman had not known for many a day.'And what's the good of it all?' he thought, as he set out on a foggy dreary morning to see the only girl he had ever seriously cared for married to another man.Out at Old Ford the weather proved no better than in the City. It was not raining, but a good thick mist lay over the whole district, making everything wet and dirty and miserable.Inside St. Matthew's, where the ceremony was to take place, an unimaginable gloom hung on every object; the windows seemed curtained and the galleries draperied with it. Seen through that medium, the dingy old pew-opener and the sleek clerk hovering silently about the chancel appeared weird mysterious

phantoms; whilst Alfred Mostin, as he shut himself in a curtained pew, from which he could observe without being seen, felt, in the depressing atmosphere and unearthly silence, as though he was about to become the spectator of some terrible sacrifice.How would she be dressed? But for the coolness which had arisen between himself and Robert, and kept him from intruding upon the little household at Old Ford, he could have known every item of the wedding bravery. His imagination held but one picture of the bride. He could see her all in white, a mere cloud of white floating up that dingy aisle. It did not much matter whether she wore a bonnet or a veil,--she would be fair in either. O sweet face ! O kindly eyes! O wealth of rich brown hair! O voice that had never held a tone save what was full of melody to his ear! to part with all these treasures, which might have belonged to him, he thought sadly, had he been different, was hard; but to part with them to his cousin Robert, to the eldest born of plain auld Rab,' seemed to Alfred Mostin unbearable.Unaccustomed tears came unbidden into his eyes, but he would not let them fall. No sorrow he might feel should dim the brightness of her wedding-day. Brightness! Good heavens! Brushing away the moisture, which had sprung from the holiest and deepest well in that complex nature, he looked at the gloom, which no ray of sunshine strove to pierce, at the semi-darkness of the cold and wretched church, and shivered. That on such a morning she should take vows binding her for life,--she whose path he would have liked to strew with roses, she who ought to have been married with pomp and ceremony amid guests and relations gathered from far and near, music floating through the air, children flinging flowers for her to tread on, horses and carriages lining the road leading to the village church! He could have borne such a spectacle; but to endure this reality seemed beyond his strength.'God grant,' he thought, 'the wretched morning may not be prophetic of her future! But everything seems to augur evil. Could he not have found another man in London to give her to him but Snow? They do not seem to be coming, and it is now eleven. Heaven send that even at the last minute something has occurred to stop the match!'But nothing had occurred. Even as the words formed themselves in his mind two gentlemen entered the church--Robert and his father.If Alf Mostin's soul had been full of good and holy thoughts befitting the place and the occasion, the sight of Mr. McCullagh would have dispelled them; and it was with a bitter sneer that, flinging himself back in a convenient corner, he muttered,'So the architect of his own fortunes deigns after all to grace the scene. It will be a fitting assemblage. If only Miss Nicol and Effie and that frolicsome brute David soon appear with Snow, I shall consider the spectacle complete.'Mr. McCullagh was attired in holiday costume; swallow-tailed coat, light waistcoat, washing necktie; he wore a pair of white gloves that had done service at Kenneth's wedding; but his face expressed no feeling of joviality--quite the contrary; he looked gloomier than the weather, and stood beside his son without interchanging one syllable with him.The clerk moved down the aisle to speak to them stealthily and as if shod with velvet. Recognising Robert as the happy man, he made a feeble suggestion relative to the propriety of advancing nearer to the altar, which apparently was received with disfavour, for both remained just within the door, which in about a couple of minutes once again swung open and gave admittance to Mr. Snow, who, after shaking hands with Robert, and going through some form of introduction to Mr. McCullagh, walked out of the church.'He has gone to wait for her on the steps,' thought Mr. Mostin. Ah, he would have liked to be the one to do her even this service.All at once there ensued a stir and bustle. Robert and his father were hurried up near to the communion-rails, within which the clergyman, a young curate with a dreadful cough, had taken his stand. The door opened wide, and Mr. Snow again appeared, this time with a lady on his arm.Could that be the bride? Save her gloves, not a square inch of white about her apparel; no cloud of floating drapery, no wreath, no veil, no orange-flowers, no diaphanous shawl, no lace flounces, such as he knew she possessed. Her eyes were bent to the ground; she was deadly pale; her figure swayed for a moment, and she leant so heavily on Mr. Snow's arm, that he turned and looked down on her colourless face in surprised alarm. Almost immediately, however, she recovered her composure.By good fortune her glance fell on a figure in a square pew, half hidden by faded crimson curtains.'I had felt alone till then,' she told him afterwards, 'a stranger amongst strangers, and I was terrified; but when I saw you courage came to me at once.'They were all ranged in front of the communion-rails before Mr. Mostin had recovered from his surprise at sight of her costume,--a dark-blue dress, covered with a long cloak of rich fur; a brown-straw bonnet trimmed outside with ribbons of the same colour, but lined with blue, and having strings to match. It might be fitting, but it was not bridal; and yet how gladly would he have welcomed her at any church-porch in the kingdom had she only come to him with a cotton dress and common shawl wrapped round her, and the poorest bonnet beggar ever wore framing the face that was to his mind the loveliest all the world.McCullagh stood a little to the right of his son, Mr. Snow about a foot behind Janey. An angular-looking lady, who, so far as apparel went, might well have posed for the bride, took her place at the extreme left. Close behind fluttered the clerk and sextoness.'A mighty poor sort of a set out,' decided plain auld Rab, who, notwithstanding his strong common sense, was in favour of a 'decent ceremonial' at weddings, christenings, buryings, and suchlike.'Anybody could only come to the conclusion they feel they are doing something to be ashamed of,' he thought, with great bitterness, as he listened to the words which made that man and that woman one till death parted them.How soon the service seemed over! Alfred Mostin had hardly concentrated his attention upon it before all the actors were proceeding to the vestry. The husband and wife; the clergyman who had pronounced them so; Mr. McCullagh, who would have set what 'God had joined asunder if he could; Mr. Snow, who had given Janey away and signed his name as witness; the bridesmaid, sister to the doctor that attended Mrs. Lilands, who was old enough to be the bride's mother; the sextoness, who had reason to feel both surprised and gratified at the amount Robert put into her hand; the clerk, who appeared more surprised and gratified still,--all trooped out of the church and gathered round the table where lay the register.'Jane Lilands'--she signed her name for the last time.After they were all gone Alf Mostin went and looked at the two words, bestowing a shilling on the clerk and a shilling on the pew-opener for the privilege of doing so.He had seen them come out of the vestry and pass down the aisle, Janey on Robert's arm this time; the elderly bridesmaid paired with Mr. Snow, and Mr. McCullagh all by himself, looking dismal enough to match the weather. In the porch the bridesmaid kissed the bride, and saying, 'I am going to make a call in the neighbourhood, so good-bye for the present; God bless you, dear; I will see you soon,' slipped on a thick gray cloak and disappeared in the gloom. Mr. Snow just waited to see the bride and bridegroom drive off, and then, shaking hands with Mr. McCullagh, and expressing his pleasure at having made his acquaintance on so auspicious an occasion, got into a hansom which was waiting, and telling the man, 'Bow--opposite the church,' pulled out a cigar and lit it thoughtfully; while Robert's father, after remaining for a few seconds 'all his lone' under the portico, hid his wedding finery under a top-coat, and stepped out for Hackney Gate, where, hailing a City omnibus, he 'saved twopennyworth of shoe-leather' by riding as far as the Flower Pot.CHAPTER XXVII.
THE NEW LIFE.'I WON'T put the disgrace on ye of refusing to be present at your weddin'.' This was the conciliatory remark Mr. McCullagh made to his son when, after having used all his powers of persuasion and rhetoric to induce him to break off the match; having implied it would cause a breach between them as long and as wide as time; having reminded Robert no true friend he possessed seemed to think well of his choice; and finally flatly refused to countenance such a proceeding by taking the deceased admiral's part even for five minutes,--he found Robert's mind 'fully set on going to perdition,' and that marry the girl he would, let who liked be present or who pleased stay away. 'It shall never be said o' me that I aibsented myself when a son o' mine took a wife, against whose character there is no a word to be spoken.'Robert was too angry to answer, and so wisely held his tongue.'And as ye are set on marrying, I wouldn't, if I was you, have it a hole-and-corner affair, just as if ye were ashamed of your choice and afraid of letting her be seen. As a rule a man doesn't look forward to being married more than once, and though, in my humble opinion, in your case it'll prove once too often, I'd make it a bit of a festival. Don't let the money stop ye. I'll be good for a pound or two. And bid your brothers and Mrs. Kenneth and all old friends to the breakfast, or collation, or dinner, or whatever you like to call it; and if ye're set on no spending a few days at the seaside, at least take a drive out to some place with the pick o' the company. I mind me when Mr. Anderson's granddaughter married young Blackmuir we went down to the Star and Garter, and spent a most agreeable afternoon, going about the neighbourhood in hired carriages, returning to the hawtel for dinner. Take my advice, Robert, and be said. If it's made such a secret of, folk will be sure there's something in the background ye want to hide.'Whereupon Robert, worked up to a pitch of frenzy, said he did not care a ----what anybody thought; and using very improper language indeed, proceeded to state all he wanted was to get married and take his wife home as quietly as might be.'Weel, weel,' groaned Mr. McCullagh, 'as the old proverb truly observes, "a wilful man maun hae his way." All I hope is that "waur mayn't come o't." I must remark I do not conceder it Christian for a man to make no more ado over taking a wife than sitting down to his dinner; but there, I've done. I've said my say, and the matter's off my conscience.'The whole proceeding was indeed a terrible blow to Mr. McCullagh's prejudices. That Robert, whom he had always considered a bit over fond of showing off--as the one of his sons who, in his opinion, held his head too high--should talk of a quiet wedding, destitute of hired carriages, gray horses, bridesmaids, best man, favours, flowers, relations, friends, the social board, the usual feasting and merrymaking, the publicity, the preparation, the excitement, the gossip, and the 'clavers,' seemed truly incomprehensible to a man who thought all family events should be kept as festivals, and graced by the presence of the outer world.He disapproved of the match heartily; but still he would 'have liked weel' to send the young couple 'off in style,' and be able to talk for the remainder of his life concerning the 'gran' set out' they had when Robert married.And now, Robert would not infuse even this single drop of comfort into the bitter cup. Robert 'was minded to have all his own way,' and refused to listen to a word of reason; and Miss Lilands proved equally impracticable.'How can we have a grand wedding,' she asked, 'with mamma's health in the state it is?'Mr. McCullagh did not see that Mrs. Lilands' state of mind, or state of want of mind, ought to prove the slightest bar to a decent and seasonable festivity; and having hinted this opinion, proceeded to remark that a young lady in Miss Lilands' position ought to choose between her future husband and her mother.''If it comes to that,' retorted Janey, with spirit, 'I shall choose my mother, then, Mr. McCullagh.'Whereupon that gentleman retired from the discussion, in good order, indeed, and with no visible sign of having sustained a defeat, but feeling worsted nevertheless, and smarting under a conviction that the new wife would carry too many guns for them all.In his extremity he actually betook himself to Mr. Pousnett, from whom he received, if possible, less comfort than had been vouchsafed by either Robert or 'his young woman,' as Mr. McCullagh called her.'If your son is determined to make such an egregious ass of himself,' said the senior partner, with a bitterness which precluded the possibility of reply, 'the quieter he keeps his folly the better.''And it was a meaner affair even than I jealoused it would be,' thought Mr. McCullagh in reverie, as he sat on the knife-board of the Hackney omnibus, and recalled each detail of the ceremony at which he had so recently assisted. 'No luck can come of it. Who ever heard tell of a girl walking forward to be married in her every-day clothes, as one might say? What is it the Bible asks? Can a bride forget her ornaments? She did; or, at least, if she owns any, she didn't put them on--thought it wasn't worth her while maybe. Never did I think to see the like. When my eye lit on her coming up the aisle, linked with that smooth-spoken gentleman-who looks, or I'm much mistaken in my estimate of him, a trifle too sweet to be wholesome--a child might have knocked me down. Weel, weel, weel, weel;' and poor Mr. McCullagh, unable to see even a glimpse of light in the darkness which surrounded this latest disaster which had fallen on his house, proceeded to the bank he permitted to keep his account, where he heard a piece of news that caused him great disquietude.'I think everything is going wrong together,' he considered drearily, the while he walked back to Basinghall-street, having still three hours to spare before he started for Robert's house, where he had agreed to take 'a bite of dinner.'That was indeed the arrangement, the unheard-of arrangement, which had, after a considerable amount of consultation, been come to.Without beat of drums, or flourish of trumpets, or bidding of friends to make a 'bit merry wi' them,' the newly-married couple meant to sneak away till their new home,' only asking him of all the family to join them at a quiet dinner at five o'clock.It was unheard of, thought poor Mr. McCullagh; but he would have been more vexed than he was had he known he owed even this delicate attention on the part of his son to the joint entreaties of Janey and Mr. Snow.'Keep in with the old man,' said the latter. 'Take my

word for it, you will find considering his whims a little pay you in the long-run.'Thus it came to pass plain auld Rab was invited in the capacity of 'first foot' across the threshold to witness his son's connubial felicity.Mrs. Lilands and a person who had latterly been procured to wait upon her remained for the time being at Bow; and the respectable woman Dr. Darfield's sister was able to engage to get the new house in order, and take charge of it till Janey appeared in person to do so, was evidently under the impression the young couple were just returned from their wedding-tour.Janey felt it all dreadfully prosaic. Even Mr. McCullagh was not more oppressed by the absence of customary congratulations and gaieties than the bride.Not thus had she ever expected to go to a husband without a single relation to bid her God-speed, to shed tears of farewell, to smile upon her with sunshiny hope. It could not be helped. Her strong common sense, which was as valuable a possession to one so circumstanced as the bright cheerfulness and unvarying amiability which excited Mr. McCullagh's ire, told the girl that such things were not for one placed as she.When she entered the church, just for a moment, as has been said, she almost broke down; but all that was over now. She had entered upon a new life, a life of her own choosing. She loved her husband, or she would not have married him; and if she did not love his surroundings, she meant to try and make the best of them, and endeavour to induce Robert to do likewise.As for Robert, his pride and happiness in his wife and house were simply indescribable. To -hang up his hat in his own hall; to wander from room to room and look at his own furniture; to see Janey flitting about, settling the flowers, giving a touch here and and changing something else there, arranging the curtains, pulling a chair forward to the fire, opening cupboards and peering into drawers, considering with a pretty pucker of her forehead whether she quite approved the setting-out of the dinner-table--filled him with rapture. He had been prosperous all his life; but he never before knew what it was to have a home. He could not have told man or woman how happy he felt. But Janey knew, and though conscious of a vague dissatisfaction herself, she had but to look at

the delighted contentment in his face, at the restful happiness of his expression, for all he shadows to be dispelled.Upon the whole, dinner passed over better than she expected. Mr. McCullagh, whatever his thoughts may have been, did not utter a single disagreeable word. He praised the viands openly, and proved, by eating of them heartily, his eulogiums were not merely complimentary. He talked on such subjects as he considered suitable to Janey's understanding, eschewing for that purpose all mention of business. His daughter-in-law was, or affected to be, interested in Scotland; and Mr. McCullagh, who had all that love for his native country which seems to appertain more exclusively to those who are voluntary exiles from it, waxed eloquent as he discoursed about the grandeur of mountain and defile, the beauties of the Clyde and the Highlands, and the romance history has woven and interwoven into almost every square foot of Scottish ground. Legend and true tale came pat from his lips as olden memories of boyhood and childhood came crowding upon him: narratives he had heard when lying idly on the beach, watching the fishermen mending their nets, or listened to with avidity beside some 'ingle neuk,' or conned on a lonely hill-side, with the pleasant west wind stirring the thyme and the wild flowers, and filling the summer air with a perfume which had not greeted his senses for many and many a long successful year.Taking advantage of a break in the conversation, or rather monologue, Robert, dinner being over and dessert in progress, asked his father if he would not prefer punch to wine.'Your wife mightn't like the smell,' hesitated Mr. McCullagh.'Janey won't mind,' answered the proud husband; while Janey said that, so far from objecting, she should like to mix the compound. 'If you will allow me,' she added.Then of course came the stereotyped pleasantry the Scotch merchant never suffered to pass him by on such occasions, to the effect 'that it would be all the sweeter;' but a few minutes later he was infinitely more humorous, without the slightest intention of being so, when he prayed Janey, for 'the Lord's sake,' to refrain from putting in the sugar till she had added the water. 'It's plain to be seen,' he went on, with a half-apologetic air for the fright he had given her with his vehemence--indeed, Janey was so startled, she dropped the sugar-tongs and nearly upset the tumbler--'ye never have been in

the habit of mixing the like o' this. Let me show ye for once, and then ye'll never need telling again.'From that time Mr. McCullagh began to enjoy himself; he waxed 'cosy' and 'couthie;' he beguiled the time with personal reminiscences, which were not, for many reasons, destitute of attraction to Janey. He could not deny she was a 'beyond common' listener; and if to this great virtue she could only have added Effie's gift of silence, and a mother who wasn't 'crazier nor any Bedlamite,' Mr. McCullagh felt that evening as if he could, by reason of Janey's 'good-will' and 'endeavours,' have condoned the sin of which she was guilty, in being quite unlike any other girl or woman he had ever met.'My faith,' he said afterwards, addressing Miss Nicol, to whom he talked for want of anybody else to listen, 'Robert and Mrs. R. are the very easiest-going pair of lovers I ever came across. It may be manners, but for my part I'd like to have seen a bit more heart. All so jimped-up and genteel; and I'm sure they needn't have made a stranger of me. If they'd been married twenty years, they couldn't have behaved themselves better. Bless and save us, Kenneth and his wife would have thought nothing of kissing each other; they wouldn't indeed; but Robert seemed afraid even to think of such a thing. How was the house, did ye ask? O, slap up; a grand fire, and everything set out in the first style, and the plates taken away whenever ye laid down your knife and fork, and clean spoons and glasses when there wasn't the smallest necessity--just as if she'd been reared amongst the best in the land. But of her sort she's no a bad kind o' girl. If there's nothing behindhand with her, he and she may do well enough.'Which Miss Nicol understood, and rightly, to mean that Mr. McCullagh had enjoyed his evening with the newly-married pair. And, indeed, she was so far right that, if she had only known the fact, while Robert walked with his father to the omnibus, the latter said,'I didn't give ye any wedding-present.''We never expected any,' answered Robert quickly. 'All I hoped for was your presence at the ceremony, and you have done far more--you have given us your company this evening.''That's very nicely put, Robert, and I think it's sincere,' said poor Mr. McCullagh, turning his shrewd face and one keen eye in the direction whence this pleasant speech had come. Of late an uncomfortable conviction had grown upon him that his money was more in request than the admirable

qualities he undoubtedly possessed, and his heart did go out to Robert because this son never seemed to be on the look-out for his 'siller.' Straightforwardly, it was true, Mr. Pousnett's partner had asked him for seven thousand pounds current coin of the realm, but when that was denied him he never 'girned' over the matter. He just took 'No,' and there was an end of it; and the result had proved the wisdom of Mr. McCullagh's refusal--at least, so he imagined; and who of those even behind the scenes might impugn his prudence? 'But I never meant,' went on the elder man, edging a little closer to his son, 'to leave ye out in the cold. Though I don't like your choice, and never shall like it--for, setting other things aside, the look o' that old mother is enough to daunt the stoutest heart--still ye're my own flesh and blood; and if we've never exactly pulled together, why, the worst that could be said was that your way wasn't my way; so, to cut the whole matter, short, I gave Kenneth a hundred pounds, and if ye consider that sum would be of any use, I've got it here in my pocket done up for ye.''Upon my word, sir, I never thought of such a thing, never looked for a present of any sort;' and there was a tremor in Robert's voice as he spoke which told Mr. McCullagh how his words had touched him.'Tut, lad,' he said; 'don't make a rout about nothing. Will the sum I mention stop a gap-help ye a bit in any way?''Ay, that it will,' replied his son, with a fervency there was no mistaking.'Then here it is, and ye're heartily welcome. No, don't be thanking me. I'd make it more, I would indeed, but that this has been a bad year to me; and this morning I heard news vexed me sorely. Ye mind those Upperton folks I've spoke about that tried to cut the ground from under my feet?''Yes; Mr. Pousnett has had a good deal from them.''Ay, so he told me. Well, I can't blame a man for buying in the cheapest market; and I'm bound to say he told me quite fair: "In business I recognise no friendship." However, that's neither here nor there; but Uppertons are going out of the trade, and who do ye think steps in?''I haven't a notion,' answered Robert.'That deevil--that I should call my uncle's son by such a name--Robert McCullagh. There you have a nice kettle o' fish--same name, same family, same trade, same town. I declare, when I think of it, I feel like tearing out a handful o' my

hair. What's the use of me having slaved and toiled and worked harder nor any cab-horse, to have the fruit o' my labours stolen out o' my own orchard, as one may say?''Why, I always understood he was in the woollen trade,' said Robert, mystified.'So he is, but he'll take on the other as well; at least the one brother'11 manage the Bread-street-hill business, and he'll look after the provision warehouse. It's just an awful complication. I wonder what sin I've committed that such a judgment should be laid upon me?''Surely, though, it can't affect you much,' hazarded Mr. Pousnett's partner.'Can't it! My faith and conscience, there'll not be a day, there'll not be an hour in the day, some annoyance won't be walking up from the Minories to Basinghall-street. Uppertons was bad enough; but that can be only considered a flea-bite in comparison to my own namesake starting an opposition in the same trade.'While Mr. McCullagh, ' convoyed' by his eldest son to the omnibus likely to leave him nearest to Basinghall-street, thus proceeded, scattering at once pecuniary blessings on Robert and literally strewing the pavement with lamentations concerning the scurvy trick Dame Fortune had served him, Janey was entertaining a very different guest.Her husband was scarcely out of the street before a knock resounded through the house, and a gentleman asked if Mrs. McCullagh were at home. Without giving the servant time to answer his question, he walked into the hall and straight through the dining-room door, which was half open. Then there came a little sobbing laugh, and 'O, I am so glad!' from the newly-made wife; and Alfred Mostin, looking as scarcely, in the memory of man he had ever looked before--swept and garnished, brushed, well clothed, with a wistful serious smile on his haggard face--held her hand tight, as if in this world he never meant to let it go again.'O, I am so glad,' she repeated, half crying, though her cheeks were dimpled with pleasure. 'It is good of you to come!''I could not let the day pass over without, at all events, trying to say, "God bless you," he answered. ' I hope you may be very, very happy; you know I do.''Yes, I am sure you do,' she replied. 'I saw you in church; why did you not come and speak to me?''I was in doubt whether I should be quite welcome; in fact, I am in doubt now as to whether I ought to be here at all.''What has come between you and Robert?' she asked, with that frank directness which, in Alfred Mostin's eyes, was one of her chiefest charms.'I really do not knew,' answered Mr. Mostin; 'a sort of unintelligible coolness has arisen between us; I can't imagine how it began.''Well it must end now, at any rate,' she said playfully. 'Robert is out, but he will soon be back.''I saw him go,' interrupted Mr. Mostin, 'otherwise it is problematical whether I should have ventured in;' and he laughed a little uneasily.'What an idea!' she exclaimed. 'He will be delighted to see you, I know. O, I have missed you! The last three months I have not known what to do. I wanted your help constantly. Robert said you were away; where have you been?''Not very far,' was the vague reply; 'but the distance served. But never mind talking about me; tell me about yourself.'She had not much to tell; but he was soon in possession of the few events she could think of to repeat.Her mother was about the same; the doctor and his sister had been so kind. What did he think? Mr. Lilands sent her fifty pounds as a wedding-present. His letter was cold but not unfriendly. She could not imagine how he got to know she was going to be married, or where she was living. She thought it very kind of him, and wrote to say so. She had not spent the money yet, she did not believe she should at present--it might come in useful some day; and watching her closely, Mr. Mostin saw a slight veil of reserve stealing over her features.'She knows already there's a screw loose,' considered that gentleman; then he spoke:'Before Robert comes back there is something I want to say to you,' he began.'What is it?' she asked nervously.'Nothing very terrible,' he replied, 'only this: some day you may want a friend, God only knows when, or why, or in what way (which of us can tell whether the future will hold trouble or joy?); and supposing you ever do, I ask you to come to me as you might to a brother or a father. Will you let me be your faithful friend through life?''Let you?' she repeated, putting her hand, which he had long dropped, again in his; 'let you?' And, as she looked straight at the firelight, which was dancing and leaping up the chimney, tear-drops shone on her cheeks and eyelashes.'Don't cry, don't,' he entreated; 'indeed I did not mean to grieve you.''You have not grieved me,' she said; 'I am grateful to you. Yes, I know you will be my friend always; I felt so in church this morning.''Did you, Mrs. -- I scarcely know what to call you yet,' he broke off awkwardly.'Call me Janey,' she suggested.'May I--really?''Of course; is it not my name?''But every one calls you that. I wish I could think of something different; though, indeed, nothing could sound to me sweeter.''Robert's father called me "Jean" to-night-how do you like that? and he sang us a song, commencing, "Of all the airts the win' can blaw." I wonder what an airt is?' she added demurely, yet with a twinkle of fun in her eyes, which were still wet with tears that told what her spirits might under other auspices have been.'Confound him and his Scotch, and his songs and his stories, and his sneaking, snarling, humbugging ways!' exclaimed Mr. Mostin heartily.In a second she was holding him by the lappet of his coat, while she administered her lecture.'I won't have it, Alfred; no, I will not. You must not speak of Robert's father in that way. He is very funny, but I am sure he is good; I mean to believe so, at any rate. I am going to try to like him; I hope in time I may get him to like me. And you must not talk ill of him; you would not if he were my father. When Mr. Napier said such cruel things about mamma, it almost broke my heart; and he's just as near to Robert as she is to me.''He may be,' agreed Mr. Mostin dryly. 'However, if you like, I will say I think him the dearest, kindest, most interesting, most generous, most charitable of human beings; only I have one warning to give you-steer clear of the women, Miss Nicol, Effie, Mrs. Kenneth, their friends, their relations, and their acquaintances. No matter what you do or leave undone, you will never please them; and the less you see of any one of the lot

the happier you will find yourself. I know them: take my advice, or you may have reason to repent not doing so.''But it would be dreadful to keep Robert's relations at arm's length.''It is what he did for many and many a year. There he is.'She ran out into the hall to meet her husband, who had opened the door of his own new house with his own especial new latch-key.'Robert, Robert,' she said, leading him into the room as she spoke, 'an old friend has come to see us. Aren't you glad?''You did not expect to find me here,' suggested Alfred Mostin, coming forward, as Robert, a little dazzled by the gas-light, stared, uncertain as to his identity; then, 'Well, old fellow, and how are you?' and 'I felt I must come and wish you joy;' and it was all over: the coolness, the awkwardness, the 'jealousy, the doubt vanished into air, and the two men standing by the hearth were friends once more.Alfred Mostin would not sit down again, though cordially pressed to do so. He drank one glass of wine and said a few pleasant words, and literally seemed to bless the house into which his presence had brought a cheery sense of life and sunshine. Relieved from the incubus of his father's presence, Robert stood with his arm round Janey's waist, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder.But Alfred Mostin did not feel pushed out in the cold any longer. Janey's eyes met his with a tender trustful expression that melted his heart. Robert seemed again the Robert of old, even to the extent of making use of and confiding in him, for as he passed into the night his cousin said,'Alf, would you believe that my father has given me a hundred pounds?''Wonders will never cease,' commented Mr. Mostin.'Are you likely to be busy on Saturday?''I can't tell. What is it you want me to do?''Well, Janey can't rest happy unless we have her mother here before Sunday; and you know you always could manage the old lady better than I.''All right, I'll take charge of her.''A thousand thanks. Don't you think, Alf, it was good of my father? more particularly as he says he has lost money through Uppertons' opposition, and is greatly annoyed about his cousin having bought Uppertons' business--the other

Robert McCullagh. But I suppose you have heard nothing about that?''Haven't I?' returned Alf Mostin, with a malicious chuckle. 'Why,
they've engaged me as town traveller.''You don't mean it!''Don't I? Ask Snow, he got me the berth.''How much are they going to pay you?''Two pounds a week.''And you refused Pousnett's offer of four?''That is quite true. I felt I was a shade too honest for Pousnett.'Having delivered himself of which dark utterance, Mr. Mostin said good-night, and proceeded Cityward on foot, leaving Mr. Pousnett's partner to consider what in the world he meant.CHAPTER XXVIII.
MR. SNOW'S DIFFICULTY.TWELVE months had not wrought any perceptible difference in the appearance of Mr. Alty's house at Bow. The oilcloth might be a degree more patternless, the stair-carpeting a trifle more threadbare, the tick of the coffin clock in the hall suggestive to a greater extent of asthma, and the brightness of everything which could be oiled, rubbed, and beeswaxed more irritating in its obtrusiveness; but still the oilcloth, the carpeting, the clock, the furniture remained unaltered.Not so the maid who answered Mr. Snow's knock. Maids in that house did not go on for ever; rather they were always coming and going. They were too apt to jump at the place, believing in a situation which verbally combined so many elements of comfort: but successive Matilda Janes and Mary Anns found, whatever the advantages of 'Alty's,' there were drawbacks to that eminently respectable service scarcely to be expressed in words.'Yes, sir, he is at home,' said the quite fresh servant, referring to her master,' but he is engaged just now. Would you be pleased to walk up-stairs into the drawing-room and wait a few minutes?'Mr. Snow signified his willingness to adopt the course suggested; and only delaying to settle with and discharge the cabman, he was duly escorted up the well-worn stair-carpeting and carefully shut in an apartment with which he was acquainted, but which he always contemplated nevertheless with a fresh awe and an exceeding amazement. It was kept entirely for show. Save when a rare visitor called, or on extraordinary occasions such as Miss Alty inviting a few friends to partake of tea and cake, no human being ever sat in it. What is more to the purpose also, the human being who could ever have wished to sit in it must have been singularly constituted.The carpet was Brussels, which had originally been of excellent quality,--a fact to be lamented, as the pattern was so exasperating, no stranger could help regretting the material

had not been worn out years previously. The ground was light, and on it were placed at regular intervals bunches of flowers that had once been gaudy, but the colours of which were toned down by the merciful hand of Time. There was a large round table in the centre of the apartment, on which two circles of books were symmetrically ranged around a basket made of beads--a wonderful and fearful work of art, that by the mere process of having stood years and years in the same place had finally attained the dignity of a relic. The chairs, placed in accustomed positions, which from twelvemonth to twelvemonth never varied, were upholstered in horsehair; there were eight of them altogether--Mr. Snow had counted them often--two being armchairs of that good old-fashioned pattern which causes any one who habitually avails himself of their services to acquire a lasting stoop. There was a sofa covered with the same uninviting and slippery material; an attenuated square piano, a good deal older probably even than Miss Alty; a card-table; two footstools, on one of which lay the semblance of a King Charles, and on the other a tabby cat, both skilfully portrayed in Berlin wool, and understood to have been limned by Miss Alty in the long remote past. The window-hangings being of amber damask, somewhat faded, though often averred to be as 'good as new,' no gleam of bright or hopeful colour redeemed the dreariness of that dreadful room; no fire blazed upon the hearth and glinted upon the brass fender and fire-irons; on the walls hung some extremely bad engravings; on the mantelshelf were placed a few common ornaments coeval with the bead basket; while half a dozen ancient feathers, that had originally belonged to a peacock long defunct, surmounted the portrait of Mr. Alty senior, who lay in Limehouse church-yard under a monument literally bristling with lies. He had held a parochial appointment, which, affording considerable insight into his neighbours' affairs, enabled him to pursue with great personal advantage, on a small scale, the money-lending business his son subsequently developed to an extent that might have delighted the old usurer reposing under the shadow of St. Anne's. The house and its master seemed, Mr. Snow thought, to have solved the problem of how to stand still; and yet time was creeping on there, just the same as in other places. Already a few irreverent persons, endowed with disagreeable gifts of eyesight, were remarking that though 'old Alty wore wonderfully well, he was not what he used to be.' If, however, they had been unhappy enough to have much to do with him,

they would have found, so far as his mental powers were concerned, any change there might be in Mr. Alty was a change for the worse.At the precise moment when Mr. Snow was surveying the arrangements of his capitalist's guest-chamber, that gentleman chanced to be very differently occupied.' Before him sat a defaulting tenant into whose house he had put the brokers. Misled by a certain nervous cheerfulness in the man's manner, Mr. Alty, imagining the debt and costs were snugly reposing in his left-hand breast-pocket, had urged him quite with effusion to take a chair-a fearful mistake, as he afterwards found, for the man proved as difficult to get out of his seat as of his holding.Conversation ran somewhat in this style: 'I have come to ye about that matter of rent, Mr. Alty.''Yes, Mr. Biggs.''Ye've put a man in.''You left me no other resource, Mr. Biggs.''I had paid ye reg'lar for six year, and I thought--''That I could do without getting any rent at all, perhaps,' added Mr. Alty, as his defaulting tenant paused, uncertain how to finish the incompleted sentence.'No, no,' laughed the other; while, God knows, laughter was little in his mind. 'I knew better nor that; still I didn't think ye'd a been quite so sharp. I haven't been able to get in my debts, and one of the children lay sick for nine weeks, and the missus got knocked up attending upon him, and we did get back a bit, I don't deny.''Upon that point I think we are quite agreed,' said Mr. Alty, doubtful, if he did not interpose, as to the distance his visitor's maunderings might carry him.'And now I've come round to see what's best to be done.''I apprehend there is but one thing for you to do,' answered the landlord suavely.'And what may that be, sir?''Pay the levy and get rid of the man,' advised Mr. Alty cheerfully.'Ay, but that's just what I can't do,' explained the tenant.'I am sorry to hear it. You know to-morrow is the last day.''I have been running about ever since the brokers came in,' pleaded the man, 'day and night a'most, I may say, trying to get together enough to satisfy the debt, and the best I can

do is pay you half the amount and promise the rest in a fortnight or three weeks' time;' and now at last he produced from that left-hand breast-pocket a small parcel, which contained the notes and gold and silver the poor shopkeeper had managed to scrape together.The parcel was tied up with a bit of narrow tape, and Mr. Biggs was proceeding to undo the knot with his teeth when Mr. Alty stopped him.'You need not do that,' he said; 'it is of no good; it is no use whatever.''Eh?' exclaimed the debtor.'It is no use, I tell you,' repeated the landlord; for Mr. Biggs's teeth were once again at work wrestling with that obdurate knot. 'Do you suppose, after having put the matter into the hands of the sheriff, I am going to stop the whole machinery of the law which I have put in motion till I get every penny that is owing to me.''But, sir, here is half, and you won't have to wait more than three weeks at the outside.''I don't intend to wait three days; I make it a rule when once I am compelled to proceed to extremities to let matters take their regular course. I never interfere with the brokers.''If they sell it will be ruin to me, Mr. Alty, just utter ruin.''You should have thought of that before, Mr. Biggs.''And haven't I thought?' asked Mr. Biggs desperately; 'haven't I strove my fiercest to get in what's owing to me? haven't I done without sleep, or rest, or food pretty nigh, I may say, since the man was put in, trying to make up what's owing?''I do not dispute the truth of all you state; but it cannot affect the matter in hand.''It's as true as gospel. Sir, sir, do take this and give me even a fortnight; think of my wife, sir, and my children, and--''I have told you before, Mr. Biggs, that I cannot interfere, and therefore it is not of the slightest use for me to think of your wife and children. It may be your way of doing business to take half the amount of a debt and a vague promise--from the result I should imagine it was; but such is not mine. How do you suppose I can pay my way if I fail to get in my rents? Are my tradesmen to wait for their money till it suits your convenience to settle what you owe me? I am sorry you cannot raise sufficient to discharge the claim. It is inconvenient to me, and I fear will prove unpleasant to you; but it can't be

helped. And now, Mr. Biggs, if you will kindly excuse me;' and Mr. Alty waved his hand with quite a lordly air in the direction of the door.Very slowly Mr. Biggs rose from his seat, and after having, in a dazed sort of way, replaced the unopened parcel in his pocket, and blindly groped about the floor for his hat, which he had placed beside the chair unwisely proffered by Mr. Alty, he said, in a species of bewildered misery, 'Good-day, sir,' and got somehow into the hall and out into the street, where he found abundant leisure and space in which to realise the full extent of the catastrophe impending.The defaulting tenant had scarcely left the house before Miss Alty, putting her long and pensive nose, which was noticeable for its almost pathetic droop, inside the parlour, observed,Mr. Snow is waiting for you, Jacob. He came in a cab, and Jane showed him up into the drawing-room.''Then she had better ask him to step down here,' said Mr. Alty; which, in effect, Mr. Snow did the moment he received permission to do so.And how is my good friend?' exclaimed the capitalist, on the hearthrug, and cordially extending two fingers 'shaken by the person honoured with this designation.'I am quite well, thank you,' answered Mr. Alty's good friend. 'How are you?''I have had a cold,' said Mr. Alty, 'which is somewhat better now. With that exception I am getting over the winter capitally. I never felt stronger or better in my life.''That's right,' commented Mr. Snow; but he looked narrowly at his colleague as he spoke. He had not seen Mr. Alty for ten weeks, and under existing circumstances the scrutiny was probably only natural.At that moment, airing himself before a splendid fire, with of pleasure hovering round his lips at having got rid of wretchedly poor creature Biggs, Mr. Alty looked as if he had found the identical animal alone capable of furnishing the milk of human kindness, and drained her dry.No generous action could have suffused his usually pallid cheek with such a glow as that left by the late encounter. Next to securing a good tenant, the best deed done, Mr. Alty knew from experience, was to get rid of a bad one; and his face, as Mr. Snow regarded him, chanced to be actually radiant with pleasure, due in no way to the delight and satisfaction of seeing his very good friend from Bush-lane.There was one change, however, in Mr. Alty that could not escape the scrutiny of such eyes as now regarded him. The old enemy had taken hold of his nose, and given his nostrils such a pinch as that with which St. Dunstan experimented upon his satanic majesty. Mr. Snow recognised the sign, which he knew would not wear away, but become more intensified with time, till carved in deep and rigid lines by the hand of the sculptor Death. 'Yes,' he thought, 'Alty may be good for some years to come, yet still--'He did not finish his mental sentence then, but put the idea it contained aside for future consideration, while he said, in answer to hospitable inquiries and offers on the part of his capitalist, that he would take a glass of wine; 'for the morning is raw,' he remarked, 'and I have been standing in a damp church, and I feel chilled to my bones ;' which result, if he had spoken out his mind, he felt was due less to the fog inside St. Matthew's than to the cold splendour and slippery haircloth of Mr. Alty's drawing-room.'Have brandy; that's the best thing for a day like this,' advised Mr. Alty. 'What on earth were you doing in church?''Seeing young McCullagh married; and a wretched day he had for his wedding.''Good enough for such a purpose,' grumbled the other.'So he has gone and made a fool of himself, after all.''I am not so sure of that.''O, of course you are a stanch advocate for matrimony.''Well, yes; I think a man is better mated than single; but, however, that is a subject we need scarcely discuss.''Scarcely; I suppose this wedding was a very grand affair--carriages, favours, bridesmaids, and the other tomfoolery people regard as the correct thing on such occasions?''No, quiet to an extent--sensibly, unimaginably, dreadfully quiet. I had the great pleasure, however, of making the acquaintance of Mr. McCullagh senior.''He was there, was he?' exclaimed Mr. Alty, with more interest than Mr. Snow's information had yet evoked. 'That looks well for the reduction of our debt, does not it? What kind of man is he?''He is a very small parcel,' was the answer, 'very tightly made up; valuable no doubt, but not much to look at. I should take him to be one of the shrewdest men of business I ever met.''And rolling in money,' said Mr. Alty unctuously, gloating

over the words. 'How much, now, should you suppose him to be worth--about, I mean?''I cannot form an idea; some say not less than a couple of hundred thousand.''Do you believe it?''No, I don't,' replied Mr. Snow; for I am quite unable to see how he could have made such a sum in his business honestly, and I believe him to be an honest man.''He may have some other business; do a little in our way, for instance.''That I feel quite certain he does not.''He is right, I think,' said Mr. Alty. 'I am coming to the conclusion that real property is the only thing in which a man ought to invest his money. Where is the good of ostensibly receiving a high rate of interest if one loses one's principal in the long-run?''Not much,' agreed Mr. Snow, regarding his capitalist a little dubiously. 'In the long-run it would about balance itself.''It would do no such thing,' retorted Mr. Alty. 'Take this McCullagh matter, for instance; say we get forty per cent instead of a paltry ten, and at the end of two years find there is nothing more to be had, why, we should be twenty per cent to the bad, and lose the interest on our money into the bargain.''But I tell you we shall not lose a shilling.''I am not so sure of that.''I am.''Well, all I can say is, I feel very sorry I ever went into the transaction.''Indeed! What is the cause of this change?''I have been considering the question very seriously, and I confess I do not like the nature of the business into which we are drifting.''What is your objection to it?''The sums involved; the sums which are growing larger larger and larger.''Well, you cannot say, except as regards young McCullagh, that, the interest is only ten per cent.''Perhaps not; but the wear and tear is frightful. I meant to write to you on the subject; if you had not called I should have done so. Our former ventures were one thing; this is quite another. By degrees we are getting far too many eggs in

one basket. Have you ever thought what we should stand to lose if this card-castle collapsed?''It won't collapse,' persisted Mr. Snow.'That is all very fine; but I do not see that your opinion, even though so determinedly repeated, affords tangible security for the safety of my money.'
'Have you ever known me wrong in my opinion yet?''No; but nevertheless I do not consider you infallible. And while we are on this subject, I may as well explain I do not feel justified in continuing the strain it puts upon me. There are times when the thought of all we have out in this venture appals me. You may smile, Snow; but, to my mind, it is no laughing matter. I can't sleep, I can't read, I can't eat, when I begin to consider the possibility of loss. These new-fangled ways of doing business may suit other people, but they do not recommend themselves to me. For the future, I have quite made up my mind to turn my attention to a different description of investment.''Humph!' muttered Mr. Snow inaudibly; but he said audibly, 'Indeed!''Yes, there is a very fine estate I believe I can secure. Three is a pot of money to be made out of it. Why, usury is a foolish sort of game in comparison to buying land by the acre, and letting it on lease at per foot.''There is a risk even in that, I suppose?' commented Mr. Snow. 'People may not want to take land on lease at per foot.''Trust me for making no mistake,' said Mr. Alty, with a self-satisfied smile. 'This land is to be disposed of under very peculiar circumstances, and even supposing I did not break it up for building, would return some interest. If I get it, as I have no doubt I shall,' he went on blandly, 'I mean to withdraw the bulk of my capital from other investments, and devote my attention to the development of the estate.'Mr. Snow remained silent for a moment, while he considered the position in which Mr. Alty's change of front was likely to place him. To cover his reverie he sipped a glass of wine, with apparent relish, though it is doubtful if he knew whether it was port or sherry; then, when he had quite made up his mind as to how he must treat his colleague, he said,'I have no doubt but you will make a good thing out of your purchase, and I do not quarrel with you for not asking me to take a share; for though tempting, I recognise the fact

it is a thing from my beat altogether. You and I are differently situated. I am trying to make my fortune, and you have made yours and only want to invest it.''You speak, as usual, with the greatest common sense,' answered Mr. Alty, relieved at the absence of all recrimination, 'and certainly, if I can carry out my plan, I shall find this the best speculation I ever went into. Why, when the leases fall out, many a lord might envy the revenue those fifty acres, that don't now produce, I suppose, a couple of hundred a year, will return.'Fifty acres! It was a revelation; almost before the words died on Mr. Alty's lips, Mr. Snow had jumped to the conclusion that he knew where those green fields lay--that he was acquainted with the would-be vendor, and that he could have told Mr. Alty something calculated to make him pause ere completing the purchase. He did not care much now for the real-estate rival that had been flourished in his face. Hereafter he would speak or hold his tongue as expediency might suggest; meantime he only said carelessly,'Ninety-nine years is a long time to look forward to. Less than a fourth of it, I expect, will see the end of me; so it is no wonder I want to make my hay while I can.''You ought not to talk in that manner,' observed Mr. Alty, whose fear of death, as Mr. Snow knew well, was only a degree less strong than his love of money; 'there is no reason in the world why you should die young.''And there is still less reason why I should live to the age of Methuselah,' persisted Mr. Snow, who, having once remembered the raw, could not refrain from touching it again. 'Even if I were to die now, I should not die young.''At any rate you cannot call yourself old,' returned Mr. Alty. 'But all this is not business,' he went on, wisely taking refuge in a truism, as people are apt to do when they desire to avoid a disagreeable argument. 'What was the special matter you came round to see me about to-day?''I did not come about any special matter,' said Mr. Snow, with as much composure as though he had been telling the truth. 'I thought I was somewhere near you, and that I would call and ask what had happened that you had neither come near me nor written for so long a time.''It is a long time,' conceded Mr. Alty, as though the idea had just occurred to him. 'I was laid up for a week in the early part of November, and now I am just recovering from a

cold. This sort of winter tries me--damp and foggy, and wet under foot.''Taken as a whole, it has not been so bad,' remarked Mr. Snow.'And haven't you got any news at all?' asked the capitalist, who felt that in some way Mr. Snow was not exactly the same man he had known through many winters and summers.'At the moment I do not remember anything very important. Nobody has failed in whom we take much interest. There is very little doing, but people are beginning to forget the scare Sir John Dean Paul gave them; they seem to have more confidence, and I think after a time things will begin to look up a bit.''You do?''Yes, I am sure of it;' and Mr. Snow looked straight at Mr. Alty, who, in turn, looked straight at him.'That's a good hearing,' said the latter gentleman at length. 'Can you stay and eat a bit of dinner with us? We are going to have a turkey which was sent for Christmas; but my sister thought we had better have it at once, as the weather is not favourable for keeping poultry. Do stay, it would be quite a pleasure.''It is impossible, I am sorry to say,' was the reply. 'I have done nothing this morning yet, and there is a lot to see to before post. I must be going now' and Mr. Snow rose from his chair and held out his hand.Mr. Alty did not take it. He deferred the operation, so to speak. 'What about those bills?' he asked. 'Aren't some of them close on falling due?''I daresay they are; indeed, I know they are. They will be all right.''Don't they want any of them renewed, or fresh ones drawn?''I know nothing about any fresh ones; they will manage the old somehow.''You have got reasons, I suppose, for saying so?''Certainly, the best of all reasons; the assurance that I shall not need to trouble you about them.''I am not sure that I altogether like this, Snow.''Not like a man taking up his paper?' demanded Mr. Snow.'Well, it looks to me very much as if some new backer had been found.''I do not believe there has; but if such were the case, where is the objection?''Only that we shall lose all future profit on the transaction.''But you secure your principal, which is what you implied a while ago you wanted.''Yes, of course I desire to see that safe; but, at the same time, I think, if any plums are dropping, we ought to have a chance of picking them up. Have you got suddenly stupid? You do not seem to understand what I mean.''I do not, and that is the fact; you can't pick up plums unless you are willing to run some risk. You tell me in one breath that you want to call in all your money; and in the next, that you are not satisfied because one of your debtors is going to pay part of what he owes.''You have hit the right nail on the head, though unintentionally,' remarked Mr. Alty; 'part--part--a very small part, my friend. So long as the original debt remains what it is, I shall not change my opinion; we ought to have every chance given us of recouping ourselves out of the interest.''In other words, that if there be any profit going, we should be able to bag it,' amended Mr. Snow.'Precisely so. This is my view of it. Supposing a fellow owes a tradesman, say, twenty pounds, and pays ten shillings off, and then carries his ready-money custom to some other shop--eh, do you follow me?''I think I do,' said Mr. Snow a little wearily; 'at any rate I will endeavour to find out how the land lies. I thought you would be pleased; but of course your view is correct. And now I must really be going. O, by the bye, there was one thing I wanted to ask you;' and Mr. Alty's good friend laid his hat, which he had taken up, down on the table, and looked as if he really meant to ask a question.'Ah, we are coming to it at last,' considered Mr. Alty. 'I thought he did not come round here merely to say, "How are you?"''Can you call to mind,' inquired Mr. Snow, 'whether you have ever mentioned the names of any of the persons we do business with?''Mentioned to whom?' asked Mr. Alty.'That is exactly what I want to know.''Do you think I am mad?''No.' Mr. Snow did not add, 'but I think you are some-

times drunk,' though the idea had certainly taken root in his mind; he only said, 'You might have dropped a word without considering any harm would come of it.''My dear sir,' observed Mr. Alty sententiously, 'a dumb man cannot speak, and a wise man cannot act like a fool. I should be worse than a fool if I let my tongue run as you seem to imply.''I imply nothing,' was the answer. 'I only say that the names of some of our clients we most desired to keep secret have leaked out.''How do you know?''By no token I can tell you; by nothing which would seem of consequence if put into language; yet still I feel the matter has been talked about.''It has not been by me.''Nor by me.' There ensued a pause; then Mr. Snow said, 'Just reflect, will you, if there was any one to whom you were likely, in the course of casual conversation, to make any remark which could imply we were doing business with-shall we call them?--Jack, Tom, and Harry?''Why should I reflect? The thing, I tell you, is impossible.''Then how could even a suspicion have got abroad?''That you will have to find out. Who knows anything bout the matter except yourself?''Save you, no one so far as I am aware.''Then you had better turn your attention to those of whom ou are not aware, who would be likely to guess we were connected with Jack, Tom, and Harry.''I cannot form an idea.''Do you suppose that fool McCullagh has been talking?''He could not, for he does not know.''Or your clerk? Come, now, that is a good notion. Depend upon it your clerk is the man.''He does not know either; he cannot know.''Well, then, some of your bankers?''They ought to have no means of knowing either.''Hang it, somebody must know! Set your brains to work, and you will soon solve the mystery. Run over your acquaintances, and ask yourself which of them is the sharpest, most able to put two and two together. Come, now, just give yourself fair-play for a minute.''I have considered the matter till I am tired,' replied Mr. Snow.'But it is an important affair, and you must not get tired. Let me try to help you. Who knows anything about it?''Mr. Pousnett for one.''He is not likely to open his mouth, I conclude?''No; not at all.''And you think McCullagh does not know?''I am sure he does not.''Well, then, who can it be? Any of the people in Pousnett's house?''Most unlikely.''Old McCullagh and Pousnett are on friendly terms. Do you think it improbable the senior partner might have dropped a sentence to him?''I think for Mr. Pousnett to have done such a thing would be beyond the bounds of credibility.'There was another pause. Mr. Alty looked out of the window, and Mr. Snow regarded the fire till, moved apparently by some sudden idea, the former inquired,'Who brough young McCullagh to your place?''His cousin, Alfred Mostin.''Alfred Mostin, did you say? My good friend, where have your wits been wandering? Alfred Mostin! Why, there you have the very person you want. Always running in and out of your office, seeing who goes, who comes. A most insolent fellow--a most pestilent individual--a most dangerous scoundrel!''Why, what do you know about him?' asked Mr. Snow, surprised at
this string of uncomplimentary epithets.'O, I know quite enough about him! I saw him at your office a few times last year, if you recollect. Well, one day in the summer I turned into Chard's just for a glass of ale, and there stood your precious proteége. He was tipsy, but not so tipsy as to be incapable of knowing what he was saying. I would have left the place when I saw him; but unhappily it was too late, for he had recognised me, and slapped me on the back, roaring out at the same time, "Well, my ancient cock, how goes it? and what is your particular?" I do not think I ever was so put out in my life. To be addressed in such a manner before a lot of people by a drunken ruffian! I have not the honour of your acquaintance, sir," I said; "and I may add, I do not wish to have it."'There was a laugh at this, under cover of which I was trying to edge out of one of the doors, when that wretch, plant-

ing himself in my way, winked at me--at me, sir--and said, "We know a thing or two, don't we, old cent per cent?"''Mostin said that?' exclaimed Mr. Snow, surprised.'Mostin said that,' answered Mr. Alty. 'After what I have just stated you may draw your own conclusion as to whether he would be very reticent, no matter what remarks might occur to him. He is a most unmitigated blackguard, Snow--an irreclaimable ruffian--a vagabond on the face of the earth! Bless your soul, if you have given him a chance of learning anything you want kept secret, you might as well have had it proclaimed by the town crier.''I do not recollect that I ever did give him a chance,' observed Mr. Snow.'Well, then, he has got' at the matter by some other means.''I will know whether he has or not before I am much older,' said Mr. Snow determinedly.'Do; and let me hear from you--about--everything.''You shall hear; and when anything is settled concerning that estate, you will write to me?''Certainly, certainly; we shall then have to confer together.''All right,' said Mr. Snow, with an agreeable smile; 'I am at your service.' And having so spoken, he performed that deferred operation of shaking hands--allusion to which has been already made--and walked out of the house, leaving Mr. Alty a good deal more puzzled than he had ever felt before on the subject of his colleague's real nature.As for Mr. Snow himself, retracing his way to the City on foot, he devoted his entire attention to the consideration not of what Mr. Alty was--for that he pretty well knew--but of what he would most probably do.'Now he has taken this notion into his head, he will pitch me over at some not distant day, sure as Fate,' considered the more amiable shark, trudging along through a genial fog over filthy pavements. 'If it is not one estate, it will be another; if it is not this speculation of his own finding out, it will be that. Well, I have nobody to thank but myself. I drew the string a shade too tight. The only wonder is he did not take fright before.'It would have been a joy to Alfred Mostin had he known the state of perturbation to which Mr. Snow was reduced. Not a client who ever left that gentleman's office enraged or

despairing experienced fiercer bitterness of soul. He, too, had his ambitions. If Mr. Alty desired, at the close of a long and sinful life, peace as regarded the nature of his investments, and nothing to disturb his digestion at meals, or his equanimity when sitting quietly over his tumbler in the evening, Mr. Snow wished, with at least equal intensity, to emerge from the chrysalis state of money-lender, and burst upon the business world as a discount broker. He knew the thing was to be done. For a year past he had thought of little else than the emancipation he believed was gradually being brought about. As he took his daily walks through the City, he had considered the question of likely premises; in waking dreams he beheld the desks, the clerks, the counters, the customs of the new state of existence, when he should not be ashamed, or feel that while ministering to men's necessities they were cursing the hand which doled out trifles of money to mock a chronic impecuniosity all the gold in the Bank of England could scarcely have relieved.He had been working up to this end; and now, in a moment, he saw the capital upon which he counted receding from view; saw it in imagination sunk in green fields, or being advanced to speculative builders, put out on mortgage, invested in ground-rents.Mr. Snow, even in his own thoughts, did not indulge in tall talk, or angry words, or the naughty expressions to which many--most, indeed--of his 'constituents,' as Mr. Alty styled the miserable wretches who were driven by stress of their own thriftlessness to borrow, or try to borrow, at sixty, one hundred, two hundred per cent, employed. He did not work himself up into a rage, or curse his day, or inveigh against the avarice of Mr. Alty and the cruelty of Fate. No; he pondered over the situation while walking from Bow to Bush-lane; and one result of his cogitations proved that, having arrived at his office, he wrote a note to Mr. Pousnett, which he posted himself, saying that he wished to speak to that gentleman the next morning at eleven.Now it was noticeable that instead of directing this letter to Mr. Pousnett's office he addressed it to Portman-square; and that he did not keep his self-made appointment in the City, but at the West-end.CHAPTER XXIX.
MR. SNOW CONFESSES HIMSELF AT FAULT.YOU can think what you please, of course,' said Mr. Alfred Mostin,
speaking loudly and angrily, and looking with indignation down on
Mr. Snow, who occupied the one comfortable armchair the
shabbily-furnished room boasted. In his surprise at the accusation
brought against him, Mr. Mostin had risen from his seat, and standing
on the hearthrug, was delivering from that vantage-ground sentiments
remarkable for terse frankness. 'Let whoever may have been chattering
about  your affairs I am not the person. You had better look elsewhere
for your "little bird," Mr. Snow; and when you find him, wring his
neck, to prevent further singing to the same tune.''Well, I tell you candidly,' answered Mr. Snow, 'that I am very sorry to suspect you. I did think, drunk or sober, you were not a fool; and I believed, like a fool myself, perhaps, you were loyal. Now what am I to conclude? I find matters with which you confess you have by hook or by crook got acquainted, talked about, or, perhaps I should better say, hinted at. Of course, on all accounts, I feel grieved to suspect you; but what else am I to do?'Mr. Mostin's answer was short and not polite. Indeed, it was so uncivil, Mr. Snow remarked he ought not to speak in that sort of way; intimating at the same time vehemence of language was no proof of innocence-rather the contrary, indeed.'If you like to believe me a spy, and a sneak, and a mischief maker, there is no more to be said,' exclaimed Mr. Mostin.'I do not like to do anything of the sort, and that is why I came to you to see if you could throw any light on the subject.''How can I do that? I know no more than the dead how your secrets have got wind. All I do know is, I have not talked about them.''Then who can have done so?''Surely that is a question you ought to be able to answer for yourself. When did you hear these hints dropped you speak of? To what effect were they? Where were they dropped, and who shed such pearls of price about the City?'It is some little time,' answered Mr. Snow, too deeply in earnest to resent, or indeed notice, the ironical tone of Mr. Mostin's question, 'since a word accidentally let fall at Meekin's surprised me, as showing my dealings with the Bread-street-hill McCullaghs were known.''Likely enough my respected employer that is to be let the cat out of the bag himself,' suggested Alf Mostin.'Not a week had passed,' went on Mr. Snow, without answering his observation, 'before a remark was made about my cleverness in having got "hand and glove" with Pousnett. This time it was Mr. Meekin himself spoke about the matter, and said I had done what many a first-rate banker would have felt proud to accomplish.''Why didn't you ask him how the deuce he knew what you had done or left undone?''Because I did not want him to think there was a secret I wanted kept. Remember, as yet, no harm apparently has come of any talk there may have been; the only thing is I want to know who is chattering about my affairs, and to stop his mouth for the future if I can.''Well, so far as I am concerned, I plead "Not guilty;" whatever I may think of you or your business' (Mr. Snow winced), 'I have never tried to injure you, or Pousnett, or even plain auld Rab. By Jove, that reminds me! When Upperton first started, that delightful gentleman, possessed by a notion that some one or perhaps all the Scotch houses intended skimming the cream of the London market, asked me to find out who Upperton might be. I very soon discovered that; but then the trouble was to discover Moorhall's backers. When at last I nosed that out also, I just lied to the old boy, and said I could find out nothing about the matter. I did indeed; though he offered me money--pressed it upon me--declared I had earned five pounds, and so forth, I never told him who his best friend was, never dropped a hint Pousnett was trying to damage him.''Why on earth did Pousnett start that opposition?' asked Mr. Snow, not sorry to be able at last to speak freely on a subject which had always puzzled him.'Don't you know? Auld Rab refused him credit.''No! not possible!''He did, though, and made a boast afterwards that for all Pousnetts' was so big a house, and his son was one of the firm, he had not relaxed his rule when the senior partner came dealing, but asked him for cash, just as if he were the poorest tradesman in the City.''Good Lord, what a fool!' ejaculated Mr. Snow.'Yes, it just shows the sort of mistake a shrewd man is capable of making when he gets "uplifted," as Mr. McCullagh calls it.''And how came you to know Pousnett had anything to do with Moorhall?''By putting this and that together. The first and only time I ever saw Robert's partner to speak to, I took his measure pretty accurately, I flatter myself; and if I were in a position to mind a man doing me a bad turn I should not care to offend Mr. Herrion Pousnett.''Ah!' said Mr. Snow, reflecting. 'Was that the reason you did not take the offer he made you?''Well, no, not exactly. For one thing, liberty seemed sweet then, as liberty would seem sweet now, were it attainable.''Yes; and for another?''Perhaps you can guess the second reason, Mr. Snow,' suggested Alf Mostin, with a curious smile.'I scarcely can; what was it?'Mr. Mostin hesitated. 'I don't want to do Robert's partner any injury,' he said at last.'And you may be very sure neither do I,' concurred Mr. Snow.'Besides which, I may be quite wrong in my view.''Possibly, but not probably. Now let me hear it. Where did you think there was a hitch--''I saw no hitch. It only occurred to me that a man in the position I should have filled there might be told to do things he would be blamed afterwards, if needs were, for having done.'Mr. Snow did not say a word for a minute. He only looked straight up at Alf Mostin, who, in return, looked straight down at him. Then drawing a long breath, he observed, 'I see;' which clearly had no sort of reference to any object within the range of his actual vision.'You are a very smart chap, Mostin,' he began, after a pause. 'I wonder you have not done better.''So do I,' agreed Mr, Mostin, with a charming frankness.'I feel quite satisfied now it is not from you any information respecting my affairs has come.''Much obliged, I am sure.''A man can do no more than acknowledge himself mistaken,' observed Mr. Snow sententiously; for Alfred Mostin's tone and Alfred Mostin's manner were extremely trying.'I did not expect you to do so much,' answered the ne'er-do-weel.'And I wish very much,' proceeded Mr. Snow, feeling it vain to endeavor to extort any greater meed of civility, 'you would take this matter in hand, and find out for me who it is that interests himself in my concerns.''Could not possibly,' said Mr. Mostin, with a twinkling eye. 'All
my time for the future will be at the disposal of Messrs. Robert
McCullagh & Co.; and the friend who secured this fortune of two pounds a week told me, if I managed to get out of my new situation, I was never for ever to go to him again for help.'Mr. Snow laughed. 'Your friend will take care,' he remarked, 'you do not lose your situation through any folly on his part; and as you are always about, you can pick up the information I want without interfering with your employer's interests. Just take the matter in hand, will you? I daresay few pounds in addition to your salary won't prove unwelcome.''They would be particularly welcome now,' answered Mr. Mostin, at last thoroughly in earnest.Mr. Snow took the hint, and at once paid down an instalment.'I have a day or two still at my disposal before I put my neck under the yoke,' observed Alf Mostin, 'which I will try to utilise. First, tell me who knows of these transactions?''No one, so far as I am aware, except the persons interested.''Meaning Pousnett, yourself, and Alty, eh?'Mr. Snow coloured. He had a bad habit of turning red, which sometimes proved as fatal to him as the weak spot in the heel of Achilles. However, in this case he accepted the situation boldly, and said, Yes, and Alty if you will; and, by the bye, how could you be so rude and stupid as to address him as you did at Chard's?''The temptation was irresistible. The old wretch told a fellow I know, who chanced to be a bit in arrear with some

trifle he owed him, he would never prosper unless he took the pledge. Now that poor devil's rare extravagance is a pint of porter drunk on his own premises; whilst as for Alty, there is scarce a bar in the City where his hypocritical face--as great a liar as its owner--is not well known.'Mr. Snow shook his head gravely.'You will never learn prudence, I am afraid,' he said.'I hope I shall never become such a humbug as your rich friend. But to return to the great question, who has the run of your office besides that dumb fellow in black?''My clerk is not dumb,' suggested Mr. Snow mildly.'He might as well be for all the use he seems willing to make of his tongue. You have a housekeeper, I suppose, who tidies up, and is in the pay, as most housekeepers are, of one of the mercantile associations.''I don't believe she is, but in any case, I defy her to get much information out of my place when I leave it.''Pooh!' said Mr. Mostin, who, owner of three sovereigns, felt himself suddenly transformed into a prosperous individual. 'To a shrewd female trifles apparently light as air are full of significance--the blotting-pad, the waste-paper basket, the letter-box! what more is needed out of which to construct a very pretty drama?''A good deal, I should say,' answered Mr. Snow, inwardly determined, however, for the future to take these various hints seriously to heart.'Then you lock up your drawers and cupboards,' went on Mr. Mostin. 'Just let me look at your keys.''I have only one bunch with me,' said Mr. Snow, producing it as he spoke.Alfred Mostin turned the keys over curiously; there were eight altogether.'Safe, cash-box, latch,' he observed; 'the only three worth a rush.''Nonsense! they are all capital keys,' retorted Mr. Snow, offended.'For which you paid a capital price, no doubt,' said Mr. Alfred Mostin. 'Nevertheless, within ten minutes' walk I could take you to a place in St. Luke's where you may buy just the same article for as many pence as you paid shillings. I think I shall begin with your housekeeper, who probably has a husband that is porter somewhere, and boys who have situations as minor clerks or errand-boys.''Do you suppose that poor Mrs. Cruse has skeleton-keys?''It is quite on the cards that she has, and that your books are periodically inspected.''Well, she would not make much out of them if she did,' said Mr. Snow triumphantly.'Some of those people are much sharper than you might imagine,' answered Alf Mostin.'I don't care how sharp she might be, she would find my books puzzle her.''Do you keep them in cipher, then?' asked Mr. Mostin.'Something of that sort; unintelligible, at any rate.''Couldn't I make them out?''No, that you could not.''We must fall back on the letters, then.''I have had no letters bearing on this matter.''The mystery deepens,' said Mr. Mostin. 'You have had callers, however, I suppose?''No; Mr. Pousnett has never been inside my office, and I have not
been in his for eight or nine months.''Who is your go-between?''We have none.''Really, I think I must throw the new McCullagh over, and devote the whole of my energies to solving this enigma.''You had better not,' retorted Mr. Snow, who knew this black sheep only wanted the shadow of an excuse to be off his agreement; 'for I could not pay you two or even one pound per week for any length of time.''Why don't you engage me as your clerk?' suggested Mr. Mostin; 'I should then be on the spot to ferret out this malignant spy.''You might get to know more than would suit me about other things,' answered Mr. Snow. 'Upon the whole, my friend, I am inclined to think you are a trifle too sharp to be safe.''You will recant that opinion when I tell you who has been talking about Mr. Snow's clients. Heavens! I have a most delightful acquaintance, a pawnbroker, who spoke the other day about his "clients;" but I think Alty's phrase is better.''How do you know anything about Mr. Alty's phrases?''That is quite outside the present question, and I must decline to reply. In a week's time I shall hope to be able to bring you some useful intelligence. What a funny notion, keeping your books in cipher! It is not half a bad one, though.'If Mr. Snow had only then and there made Mr. Mostin acquainted with the sort of cipher he employed, he would have saved that clever individual a considerable amount of trouble.CHAPTER XXX.
MR. M'CULLAGH IS UNDECEIVED.IT is one thing to live on very little, and quite another to possess the power of making a little go a long way; in other words, there are persons who can do without butter altogether, but yet fail utterly when asked to make a small portion cover a large quantity of bread. Superficial observers are very apt to confound the two gifts-for each in its way is a gift-and to jump to the conclusion that those who cannot by any stretch of courtesy be called good managers are extravagant; the fact being it is as a rule the difficulty of accommodating a past of utter shortness to a present of comparative competence which drives many women half crazy, and induces comments from men concerning wretched housekeeping that, though perhaps somewhat inconsiderate, are wholly natural.Mr. Robert McCullagh's young wife was not a good manager in the sense of being able to get a pound's worth of value for ten shillings' worth of expenditure. It is an extremely simple system to make the two ends meet by living on tea and bread-and-butter; but this proves a bad education for a future career in which daily dinners form a feature; dinners a husband expects to be good, and provided at a not exorbitant cost. Janey had not been long married before she began to realise she knew nothing whatever about the mysteries of domestic management. She was a quick and clever needlewoman; she could make a room look pretty with the cheapest of materials; she could have nursed Robert day and night had he been taken ill; she could induct a housemaid into the mysteries of waiting at table; but what she could not do was keep her bills within a certain limit if she had to conduct the establishment in a given style. She knew what tea cost a pound, and how much bread and butter might serve for a week, but there her information ended. She had learnt music from the time she could remember anything, and she commenced reading too far back in a remote past to recollect when she found any trouble with the long words, and her nurse at a very tender age tied a piece of thread

to a pin and gave her a piece of coarse muslin, and so the child began to sew; but of that which constitutes humanity's greatest and most constant want--food--Janey had only the knowledge that she had, when younger, seen it placed in different forms on various tables. As to what it might be in its original shape, or the nature of the manipulation and processes it went through to fit it for ordinary appetites, she was as utterly ignorant as a French child of English or a farm-labourer of Latin and Greek.If Mrs. Lilands had ever been conversant with such details--which is extremely doubtful--obviously, in the lady's then state, to consult her about a problem in housekeeping would have proved worse than useless. The doctor's sister, Janey's only female friend in London, dwelt afar off; and so it came to pass that Mrs. Robert McCullagh had to wrestle with the difficulties all alone, as she found cookery books rather mystify than enlighten her.The result of this proved exactly what might have been expected. Janey failed to make her housekeeping money and her housekeeping expenses agree.'I know it is my own fault somehow,' she decided modestly; and, indeed, it was, if not her fault, her misfortune. When a lady does not know the name of a single joint, and has not the faintest notion concerning the quantity of lard or butter usually employed in making enough pastry for an apple-tart, it needs no sage to tell that a considerable expenditure and very little comfort are likely to ensue.But, though humiliated, Janey was not beaten. Diligently she set herself to master the science of domestic management, just as she would have studied some unknown language had she found herself transported suddenly to a foreign shore. She knew how her husband liked to live, and it was not long before arithmetic and her own common sense came to the conclusion it was impossible to keep a liberal table and have everything in the house en suite upon the amount Robert indicated as that he should prefer not to be exceeded.One by one, accordingly, she kept on lopping off expenses which necessitated no privation to her husband. First both cook and housemaid departed, and a general servant was engaged; then she too received her dismissal, and the little maid of the Old Ford days was reinstated, Mrs. Lilands' attendant promising to give some assistance each day in the kitchen while Mrs. McCullagh sat with 'her mamma.'Under this new order of things, which was not inaugurated

till Janey had been married some months, the household was not, perhaps, less comfortable, but it proved more open to criticism. Even Mr. McCullagh wondered Robert could content himself with one 'wee gairl;' while Miss Nicol opined the 'fine new wife must have a temper of her own, as she did not seem able to keep a decent servant in the house.''They keep that one they have for looking after the madwoman,' said Mr. McCullagh, in extenuation of Janey's many sins; for though he did not like her, he did not care to hear her run down.'Ay, I'm thinking that's the leak lets out most of the money,' observed Miss Nicol oracularly.'What d'ye mean?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'Why, that your son's earnings are being spent in trying to mend Mrs. Lilands' cracked head. They had two of the great West-end doctors seeing her the other day, each of them in a carriage and pair, no less. It won't take long to drive through a fortune at that rate.''Well, I'm sure ye needn't grizzle at the creature for wanting to get the best judgment she can to bear on her mother's misfortune.''I'm not complaining; I've no need,' replied Miss Nicol. 'It's not my money that's being wasted. But a person may make a remark, I suppose; and having still the use of my eyes, I can't help seeing there's not a thing about the house just as it ought to be, except what's for the use and benefit of a woman who has lost whatever sense she had, always supposing she ever had any.''I'd never desire to sit down to a better dinner than they give me,' said Mr. McCullagh, who knew it was a bitter drop in Miss Nicol's cup that she had only been asked to partake of tea.'Nobody, as I am aware of, ever considered eating and drinking would be behindhand where Robert was,' retorted the lady, who was perfectly well aware she had but to advance any suggestion to Janey's disadvantage for Mr. McCullagh to take it into his mind and hatch it at his leisure.This was precisely what happened in the present case. He considered the question, turned it over and over, and came solemnly to the conclusion, not only that a mint of money was being wasted on Mrs. Lilands, but that Robert had entangled himself with her affairs, and become bond or guarantee or 'something he'd repent sore' for his mother-in-law.The whole land of Janey's mind, indeed, lay open for him to explore. In the length and breadth of it he could not discern an ambuscade or a fenced city, and perhaps it was for this reason he decided she was deep and false.'She is for aye saying, "We can't afford this," or "We must do without that," or "We will have the other when we can save up enough to buy it." Now, what the de'il can she mean by such hints and make-believes? She knows well enough what's taking cash out of the lad's pocket, and why should she make a to-do about it? He was never short till he met her; and I've looked about me, and I can't even find out what they've done with that hundred pounds.'At last he could bear the uncertainty no longer, and asked Janey plainly how it was they did not seem to get 'before the world.''Robert's share in Pousnetts',' he went on, ' mayn't be a big one, but it ought to go a good bit further than it seems to do.''I don't know what his share comes to,' answered Mrs. Robert simply; 'but he wants us to spend as little as we can till he is out of debt.''How did he get into debt?' Mr. McCullagh's tone, as he put this question, was very sharp, and his face looked very keen; even his nose seemed to point an interrogation.'He never told me,' said Janey, frightened; for she began to think Robert might not wish his father to learn anything about his affairs.'I thought he told ye everything--that he hadn't a secret from ye,' was the ironical comment.'Robert has not any secret,' retorted Janey, with spirit. 'I have no doubt he would have told me all about it if I had asked him, but I did not.''I daresay,' observed Mr. McCullagh; and Janey did not like to inquire what he meant.'What's this I hear about your being in debt?' inquired the father of the son, on the very next opportunity which presented itself of putting such a question.If he had not been forewarned, Robert certainly would have found himself in an embarrassing position; but informed by his wife of the conversation, he was prepared with an answer.'I am not in debt any more than I can pay,' he replied, trying to laugh, and not succeeding very admirably in the endeavour.'But how does it happen? how could such a thing come about?''O, it's a long story,' said Robert diplomatically.'Were ye so far left to yourself as to become surety?''Well, something of that sort,' stammered his son.'I deemed as much-I deemed as much,' commented Mr. McCullagh. 'Man, man, that's an awful rope to knot round your neck. Ye'll never run yourself into such a snare again, will ye?''I don't think I will,' was the truthful reply.'Could I help ye? Maybe ye've fallen among thieves that are charging an exorbitant interest. If I was to speak a word (I am considered to have a good judgment in some matters), would it be any use, think ye?''I do not fancy so; thank you, sir, all the same,' answered his son. 'They seem fair-dealing people enough, and I hope to be all right after a time; only for the present Janey and I considered it best to cut our coat according to our cloth, and save as much as we could.''Ay, that is only prudent; but, O lad, if ye'd only had the sense to stay single for a while!''There is no use in talking about that now, is there, father?' asked Robert.'No, no manner of use at all,' agreed Mr. McCullagh; and he abandoned the conversation, fully believing Robert had at last come round to his way of thinking.'He's just spoiled for life,' he thought. 'The Lord alone knows what sort of a hole this is he has let himself into. Mad or sane, they've been wise enough to get the foolish boy into their clutches, and I am real sorry, for it is on my mind he is the best of the bunch. There is that Archie now coming tearing home, when I am very sure nobody wants him, unless it may be David. Well, they must each and all go their own way. Wae's me! I never thought to be so weary of my own sons.'Upon the whole, the year had opened and gone on well, so far as business was concerned. The new firm of Robert McCullagh & Co. did not yet seem to be doing the same amount of damage to the elder house as that wrought by Upperton & Co. Eventually, no doubt, they might prove dangerous; but a certain amount of caution characterised their dealings which had been totally wanting in the opposition inaugurated by their predecessors.'They look more like "holding on,"' suggested Mr. McCullagh to his son.'Well, other people can hold on too,' replied David, with that bold decision which characterised all his utterances, and often angered his father, who entertained a natural objection to other persons holding as positive opinions as himself.Both the Basinghall-street house and the business presided over by Mr. David were indeed doing an exceptionally good trade, and Mr. McCullagh felt well satisfied about his returns, and also concerning the money Captain Crawford had intrusted to him. If he could only have made himself as content about his sons as his business, he might have been regarded as a happy man; but he did not get on well with David, who spoke of him in a disparaging way as the 'Old man,' 'Dot and carry one,' 'Steady-goer,' 'Slow and sure,' and other such terms, which in due time came round again to Mr. McCullagh's ears.That David had some project of his own in view, he felt what he called 'morally certain.' After sounding his father on the subject of a partnership, and finding that hope 'no go,' he suddenly took hold of the trade helm, which he had suffered in his vexation to slip out of his hand a little, and began steering away for success like a madman. It was then he wrote for Archie to come home--Archie, who was, Mr. McCullagh hoped, settled in Spain, where he held a good situation under a firm in the East-end of London--and when his father remonstrated, said he knew what he was about, and that he wanted somebody he could trust to leave in the office when he had to be away.Mr. McCullagh would have asked how David imagined he had contrived to get people about him he could trust; but knowing by experience David thought but little of any of the 'Basinghall-street gang,' discreetly held his tongue, and wondered what the younger man had in his mind.'He's for ever going down to Liverpool,' he thought; 'and as for Kenneth, he's not a bit like what he used to be; and I'm just afraid Archie will upset the house here altogether; and then there's Robert, afraid to spend a sixpence on an omnibus, let alone cabs. Lord, I little thought when I was rearing my sons I'd have all the trouble with them they seem going to bring on me.'There could be no question the change in Robert affected Mr. McCullagh more than all his other causes for anxiety. It

was an alteration more to be felt than described. His walk was less jaunty, his manner more constrained, while in general appearance he seemed older and more thoughtful.'He's just got as dull as ditchwater,' summarised Miss Nicol. 'That's aye the way with his sort--they're either up in the garret or down in the cellar.''O, I think he has scarce got just as low as the cellar, Janet,' remonstrated Mr. McCullagh.'No one would know him for the same young man,' she went on, unheeding this appeal. 'As ye're aware, I never was so taken up with his face and his ways as some folks, but that does not hinder me being sorry to see him now. There is not a thing fitting in the house. The other evening, when they asked me to tea, I took a pot of jelly with me, thinking it might be a little change, and, if ye believe me, there was not a glass dish to be had to put it on! I could not help saying I was glad Mrs. Kenneth did not happen to be there, or she'd have thought us all disgraced.''I can't consider that was a very pleasant observation,' objected Mr. McCullagh.'Mrs. Robert 'll never learn if she isn't taught,' answered Miss Nicol. 'Well, I was telling ye, she said she'd buy a dish, and then Robert spoke up in a perfect fury: "If there never was one in the house it couldn't be regarded as a matter of any consequence."'With all her soul Janey had tried to propitiate her husband's family, and without result. As Miss Nicol truly remarked, 'There is something in fire and water that hinders them getting  on well together;' and, although there was no open quarrel, Mrs. Robert McCullagh felt herself a waif who could never hope to obtain admission within the holy of holies in Basinghall-street, where the broadest Scotch was spoken, and ideas such as she had never heard of, or imagined, ruled the minds of Mr. McCullagh and his surroundings. She did her best to accommodate herself and her ways to the strange family that now, by a curious fiction, was supposed to be hers also. She dressed after a fashion she imagined might find favour in the eyes of Miss Nicol. She drank weak tea which had been brewing twenty minutes 'within' the fender. She asked Effie to play; and when that young person objected--'she hadn't her notes'--begged her to sing, and offered to accompany her. Then Effie would say she 'couldn't find the words;' and when Janey herself endeavoured to extract music out of that awful

instrument with the loose wires and the dumb notes, observed, 'Mister McCullagh cared for nothing but Scotch tunes,' and hinted his favourites were 'My Nannie, O,' 'John Anderson,' and others of the same description, all requiring an instrument sound in wind and limb to make them other than a disastrous failure.As to what she endured at the hands of Mr. McCullagh in his endeavour to teach her a proper Scotch pronunciation, nor man nor woman could tell. Whenever he went to Robert's house--and he went very often--he devoted himself over his 'toddy'--the materials for which Janey, who would have done anything almost to try to please him, insisted should be carried into the drawing-room--to the genial task of fault-finding. He 'set her to sing,' and stopped her constantly with, 'Ye've no got that jest right yet;' 'Ye're better at it, but ye hav'n't got it quite the thing;' 'It's queer now that ye can't pronounce "bonnie" as it ought to be spoken;' 'I wonder if ye'll ever be able to say "luve."'With the sweetest patience, Janey would laughingly endeavour to correct her errors; and that she made but poor progress was owing, Mr. McCullagh one evening told her, he felt sure, to no want of will, but just to a sort of' defeciency in her.'Most unfortunately, Alfred Mostin chanced on this occasion to be present. He had sat chafing under the various corrections to which Janey was subjected; he had listened to Mr. McCullagh accompanying Janey with his cracked tenor in 'O, wert thou in the cauld blast;' borne his strictures upon his daughter-in-law's rendering of' Bonnie Lesley,' which, he said, needed a 'wee pawky dash of humour;' but when he interrupted her two or three times in' A Red, Red Rose'--for Mr. McCullagh had arrived at a state in which he was nothing if not critical--Mr. Mostin could endure the infliction no longer.'You seem to forget,' he said, addressing the' architect of his own fortunes, 'that it is as hard for Mrs. Robert to learn Scotch as for you to speak English.''Or for you to show good breeding,' supplemented Mr. McCullagh. 'Ay, I had forgotten it.'Then ensued a hubbub for a minute; and there would have been a wordy war had not Janey interposed, and patched up a hollow peace between her father-in-law and her friend.'It was all her fault,' she declared. 'She could not re-

member, and she felt ashamed after all the teaching she had had.'Mr. McCullagh pretended to be appeased, and, beyond advising Mr. Mostin 'to keep a bit more check on his tongue,' made no further allusion to the matter; but it was long before his vanity recovered the blow thus dealt, for it is a fact that he considered his English accent a degree more perfect than his Scotch. He said nothing about this episode to Janet, as she in like manner kept from his knowledge the particulars of a dreadful humiliation which had befallen her on the occasion of the second visit she paid Mrs. Robert.When she entered the room Mrs. Lilands was there, seated beside the fire in one of the crankiest of her cranky tempers. She was, indeed, so cross, Janey did not venture to introduce the new-comer to her notice; and keeping Miss Nicol at a discreet distance from the hearth, discoursed in a somewhat low tone on various subjects she supposed might meet with that lady's approval.Suddenly, in the midst of a fascinating conversation concerning the merits of a new pattern in tatting, from the depths of Mrs. Lilands' armchair came a querulous 'Janey, Janey!''Yes, mamma;' and Janey, instantly on the alert, approached her mother, and, bending down over the bent and shrunken figure, inquired what she wanted.'Tell that woman to go away,' said Mrs. Lilands, in a voice which, though broken, was painfully distinct. 'How dare she sit in my presence! You are far too familiar with such people! I always told you so!''You do not know who this lady is, mamma,' said Janey, who felt ready to drop with shame and vexation; but Mrs. Lilands was not to be appeased, and the young wife had actually to ask Miss Nicol to adjourn to the dining-room. Some sort of apology and explanation was attempted; but after such an insult what apology or explanation could avail?Almost with tears, Janey besought Miss Nicol to attach no importance to 'poor mamma's wanderings;' and Miss Nicol, with a toss of her head which set the feathers in her best bonnet quivering, answered,'Ye need not concern yourself about the matter. What's said by folks as is out of their mind never troubles me; only, if I was you, I wouldn't have her about. Strangers might be offended, or even frightened, and I'm very sure nothing could

vex Robert more than for it to get about his wife's mother had lost her senses.'Having gracefully administered which 'tit' to Janey for Mrs. Liland's 'tat,' Miss Nicol turned her conversation to other less personal topics.Time passed on, and 'Mrs. Robert' was reluctantly acknowledged as an accomplished fact. She had married into the McCullaghs, and was treated 'according.' Mrs. Kenneth solemnly invited her down to Liverpool; while Kenneth himself called on his brother's wife more than once, and took some trouble to ascertain how the land was 'like to lie' as regarded Robert and her in the old man's will.David was an occasional visitor also; while Miss Nicol and Effie were, as they expressed it, 'not behind either.'Truth to tell, Janey saw a great deal more of the whole family than she felt to be quite pleasant. The more she saw of them, the less she liked them. At first she had been willing to condone many faults and many sins against her tastes and prejudices, because she believed them to be good and honest and true--not good merely in the sense of being virtuous, or honest in so far as not cheating a man of his money, or true only in the way of not telling a lie; but leal and loyal and faithful. Diamonds in the rough she had been willing to deem them; but by degrees Janey found herself tending to the other extreme, and wondering whether there was anything of the diamond except the rough about them. Never did woman try harder to propitiate her husband's family, and never did woman fail more utterly. Her very appearance was an insult to them; the cut of her mantle an affront.If she had taken the high hand, kept them at arm's length, paid them visits, say, once in three months, they would have still hated, but they would have feared, her. As it was, she met them on even ground, and they felt they would like to trample her in the dust; all, indeed, save Mr. McCullagh, who could not but confess the new daughter-in-law had ways with her 'just beyond the lave.'Most undoubtedly her father-in-law disliked her, because she had taken Robert's notions up 'a peg higher;' but if he could only have acknowledged it to himself, he loved her for her 'lady's ways and gentle manners,' for that which is beyond price and favour.In an unguarded moment Mr. McCullagh, finding his son's wife 'a bit peaky,' invited her to partake of the hospitality of

Basinghall-street, where 'ye shall hae,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh, with relish, 'richt guid Scotch fare.' And then he went on to enumerate some of the dishes wherewith Scotia rewards those of her children who, remaining faithful to her traditions, can, in the midst of English plenty, retain intact their love 'swinged sheep's head,' cock-a-leekie, haggis, and other dainties, even the component parts of which are unknown mysteries south of the Tweed.Hitherto the hospitality extended to the new wife had be confined to tea with hot scones, crisp oat-cake, marmalade, preserve. There were reasons for this which will readily occur to the reader, who recollects the first time he crossed the threshold of Mr. McCullagh's abode. It is simple enough to tell a son to 'bring forward a chair,' and 'take a knife and fork;' but it proves a matter of some difficulty to provide a 'dinner according' for those accustomed to the luxuries of modem civilisation.A 'dinner,' except of the crudest description, was a thing which had never been thought of in Mr. McCullagh's house; even Mrs. Kenneth, for all her 'tocher' when she came to London, was obliged to content herself with a 'bit off a joint,' and a 'help' of potatoes, and perhaps a little cabbage, and all things else 'in proportion.'It was therefore with a 'bent brue' and an angry 'glower' Miss Nicol heard that Janey had not only been invited to dinner, but had consented to come.'It must be just as you please, of course,' she said; 'but I don't know what we are going to do with her.''Hoots, woman!' answered Mr. McCullagh, who, considering the matter in cold blood, felt he had made a mistake, but was determined thumbscrews should not induce him to confess the fact, 'she's no that ill to please. It does not trouble her what she is set down to. She wants a bit of change, being shut up day after day with that daft auld wife; and I'm thinking we haven't done what we might by her, considering she always seems ready and willing to do what she can by us.''I'm thinking she knows there's a good deal to be got by pleasing ye,' answered Miss Nicol dryly. 'However, that's nothing to do with me. If ye'll say what ye would like me to get for dinner, and give me money to get it with, I'll do my best to have things as they should be; though unless ye see fit to replenish the linen-cupboard, and order in most things people nowadays think needful for table use, I am afraid I can't make much of a show.''There is no call for a show,' retorted Mr. McCullagh; 'ye might jest with as much sense ask me to refurnish the house at once. She'll have to take us as we are. If she can't do that she'd best let us alone.''That wouldn't suit her, I'm very sure,' said Miss Nicol, with a sneer, to which no attempt at description could do justice. 'I'll need to have Effie here to help,' she added, seeing a storm brewing on Mr. McCullagh's countenance.'Well, have Effie; who's hindering ye?'It is almost unnecessary to say Robert excused himself from forming one of the party assembled round his father's festive board. His reminiscences of that dinner-table were of too terrible a nature to permit of his voluntarily witnessing the effect likely to be produced on Janey by this private view of his father's menage. He pleaded the impossibility of getting away from Pousnetts' at the early hour mentioned, but promised to call in the evening for his wife. He begged that tea might not be waited for him, as it was uncertain when he could get round; the fact of the matter being that he did not want to encroach further on the hospitalities of Basinghall-street than the inevitable tumbler of punch, which he knew his father would insist on his mixing.Upon the whole Janey felt very much pleased to have made even this amount of progress. Mr. Snow, in whose worldly wisdom she felt implicit confidence, had urged her to use every lawful means that might tend to bring the father and son nearer each other; but besides this, the young wife felt a pity for Mr. McCullagh that gentleman would scarcely have liked had he known of its existence. She was perhaps the only human being who had ever understood even partially the Scotchman's true nature. He had wearied, he had offended, he had tried her. She often felt sorry to think her husband should have such a father. His manners and appearance and ideas belonged to a class with which she had nothing in common. Nevertheless, deep down in her heart she knew there was good in his nature--understood--dimly, it might be--but certainly he had walked thus far through life lacking the warm clasp of the hand, the appreciative word, the loving glance which would have made a different creature of a man who seemed to her, spite of all his money, lonely beyond belief.The day arrived, and the dinner, which, though good and thorough of its kind, could scarcely be pronounced a success. Janey did her best to eat and praise the various unwonted

viands with which Mr. McCullagh, in his desire to show her she was welcome, heaped her plate; but she was not well, and the very effort to accommodate herself to the uncongenial society with which she was surrounded made her feel the strain almost more than she could endure.As usual David was boisterous and offensive; also, as usual, Effie sat silent and depressed, answering all remarks in monosyllables, and contributing nothing whatever--not even a healthy appetite--to the progress of the proceedings. As usual, Mr. McCullagh had many remarks to make; and quite out of ordinary custom, Miss Nicol seemed almost gay, answering her kinsman's observations in a light and jocund manner, and, in fact, making so little of the trouble she must have had to prepare such a dinner that Mr. McCullagh felt after all she 'was not a bad sort;' she had done her best, and her best was very good, and she didna say a word to let the new wife know what it cost her.'Ah, if Mr. McCullagh had only been a woman acquainted with Miss Nicol's ways, he would have understood something lay in the background to account for such unwonted cheerfulness. For once she could afford to be more than civil to the new wife; she held an arrow in reserve; she knew how to draw her bow, not at a venture, and yet find the mark. Tranquilly she bided her time; she was waiting her opportunity, and at last it arrived.Tea in that house was a meal which followed dinner with an apparently unreasonable rapidity; but the reason was not far to find. At dinner the ladies of the household as a rule ate so little they were not sorry to supplement the supplies of meat with bread; whilst Mr. McCullagh easily fell in with the custom which left the latter part of the evening free for a glass or so of toddy. Truly and duly, then, on an occasion Janey had good cause to remember, tea made its appearance; not a 'high tea,' supplemented with fowl and ham and pie and joint, or even an extraordinary tea, served with scones an cake and jams and suchlike, but a common tea, accompanied only with bread-and-butter, and some biscuits with which Mr. McCullagh, out of the fulness of his heart, supplemented the feast.He came up from the warehouse to partake of the meal in the highest good-humour. He was, as Miss Nicol said, 'full of his jokes;' he told a few old stories which were new to Janey, and made her laugh heartily; matters, in fact, went

merry as possible, till something was said as to the time when Robert might be expected to appear upon the scene.'He'll not show yet a bit,' observed Miss Nicol. 'He never was over and above fond of coming here.''Ye needn't begin to find fault with him, Janet,' interposed Mr. McCullagh. 'We'd best let bygones be bygones. If he didn't care to come maybe he had his reasons; and I'm sure he makes himself pleasant and chatty enough now. I know he'll be here as soon as he can get round. He's in a big firm, and must have a heap on his shoulders. It's just wonderful to think of so young a man getting into such a position. Talk about climbing I it would be more to the purpose to say he leaped to success.'In uttering which words Mr. McCullagh had a twofold object: to glorify his son before the inappreciative Janet, and to show the new wife what a worldly prize she had won in the matrimonial market.'Yes,' said Janey, with a pleasant pride in her absent husband, 'he must be very clever; of course,' she added, with a pretty blush, 'I know he is very clever.''He must be that,' argued Mr. McCullagh, 'or Pousnett would never have taken him in as he did. It's an unheard-of thing almost for a young man to get such a partnership without paying for it, and high too.''But there are those as say he did pay well for it,' struck in Miss Nicol.'What d'ye mean? what are ye talking about?' asked Robert's father, struck even more by the lady's tone than by her words.'I am talking about Robert. I understand he had to find a lot of money before Mr. Pousnett would have him at all.''That's nonsense,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'He had not to find a penny-piece.''As far as you know,' suggested Miss Nicol.'As far as I know!' repeated Mr. McCullagh; 'why, I know all about it.''Or ye think ye do, which maybe answers as well,' she retorted.'What the de'il are ye driving at, woman?' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, forgetting his politeness in his excitement. 'What's the sense of sitting there hinting at this and that? If ye've got anything to say, out with it. Ye'll choke yourself if ye don't speak. Now what is't ye have against Robert?''I know nothing against Robert,' answered Miss Nicol, speaking with slow drawling distinctness. 'It's no sin, so far as I am aware, for him to have borrowed seven thousand pounds at big interest to buy himself a share in so great a house.''Seven thousand pounds!' echoed Mr. McCullagh; whilst Janey, with blanched face, sat looking at Miss Nicol, utterly unable to speak or even to understand. 'Ye're talking like a child, Janet. Where would he borrow seven thousand pounds, or the name of it?''I could tell ye that too,' answered Miss Nicol, toying with her teaspoon; 'but maybe ye'd rather I said no more.''I'd rather ye said whatever there is to say. Who would lend Robert such a sum of money?''A man of the name of Snow ye've perhaps heard tell of; the same as is keeping up your cousin to your detriment.''Who told you such a falsehood?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'Never mind who told me. Ye'll find it to be the truth.'Without speaking a word, Mr. McCullagh rose and left the room. For a minute there ensued a dead silence, but then Janey broke out,'O Miss Nicol, how could you! What harm has Robert ever done that you should try to injure him in this way?''It's time his father was stopped making a laughing-stock of himself,' answered Miss Nicol. 'Everybody was talking, and saying, "It's aye those the nearest home as is the last to hear news." Here's Robert himself,' she added, as the delinquent entered the room.'Yes, here is Robert,' said the young man gaily, shaking hands with his kindred. 'Where is my father? Why, Janey, what in the world is the matter?''I do not feel well,' she faltered. 'I should like to go home, Robert, if you do not mind.''What ails you, dear?' he asked, putting his arm round her tenderly.If it had not been for the presence of Miss Nicol and Effie she would have laid her head on his shoulder and burst into tears; but as matters stood, she managed to restrain herself and say she would tell him afterwards.'May I put on my bonnet? she asked, turning to Miss Nicol.With great alacrity, that lady lighted a candle and led the way to the apartment where Janey had taken off her out-of-

door apparel. Effie would have followed had Robert not stopped her.'What is wrong with my wife?' he asked hoarsely. 'Do you know?''I think,' answered Effie, as mournfully as though she had been chanting a dirge, 'Janet said something that vexed her.''What sort of a thing?''She'll tell you herself,' said the girl deliberately; 'I wouldn't care to be brought into the matter.''I was an idiot ever to let her come here,' he cried angrily.'Ye know best about that,' replied Effie.'Let us get away, Robert,' entreated Janey, standing just without the door.'Good-night, Effie; good-night, Miss Nicol;' and without even offering to shake hands with either, she took her husband's arm and began hurriedly to descend the stair-case. Before the hall was reached, however, the door of Mr. McCullagh's private room opened, and that gentleman appeared on the threshold, holding a candle above his head and peering up at the figures advancing towards him.'Is that you, Robert?' he inquired.'Yes, sir.''Just step in here a minute if ye please.''Wait for me, Janey; will you, dear?''I want ye both,' said Mr. McCullagh, in an even passionless tone. 'I won't keep ye; come in.' And as they did so he closed the door and walked to the table, where he stood fronting them.'I am going to ask ye a plain question, Robert,' he said, 'and I hope ye'll give me a plain answer to it. Did Pousnett take ye into partnership, as I've always been led to believe, without your paying a penny-piece for the previlege?'Janey pressed her husband's arm, but the hint was unnecessary; he knew now where the danger lay.'Well, not exactly, sir.''Yes, or no, is enough. Is it "No"?''If you will not allow me to explain--''I want no explanation. Is it true ye paid him seven thousand pounds hard cash, which ye got from Mr. Snow?''Something of that sort, sir.''Blame me as much as you like, sir, but don't speak against my wife. She knows nothing about the matter.''Will ye go,' said Mr. McCullagh, 'or do ye want to drive me to curse ye outright? Go, ye're no son of mine! Go!' And his attitude was almost tragic, as he stood with the light shining on his pale, shrewd, troubled face, and his lifted hand pointing to the door.CHAPTER XXXI.
THE FAIR EFFIE.'SO, said Mr. Alfred Mostin--and it would have been hard from his tone to tell whether he was most pained or pleased at the catastrophe which had happened--'you would not take my advice and steer clear of the women! Now you see the result of endeavouring to propitiate them.''But surely,' urged Janey, 'it was right for me to be ordinarily civil to my husband's relations?''I say nothing about the right,' he answered; 'I only know it was foolish. You should have kept them at arm's length. But there is one comfort about the affair, you will never need to trouble your head about a single member of the family again.''Do you think, then, Mr. McCullagh will not forgive Robert?''I do not think, I am very sure. If Robert had been found drunk in the street, or convicted of forgery or manslaughter, or even murder, he might have overlooked the offence; but, in consequence of not knowing how the land lay, the old man has made himself ridiculous, and he will remember the deception practised on him " till his deein' day."''It is a most dreadful thing,' said Janey piteously.'I see nothing dreadful about it,' was the reply. 'Robert is in no worse position; and you are relieved from the necessity of trying to please people you never could please if you laid down your life for them.'Janey sighed a little piteously. 'It was dreadfully hard work,' she confessed.'Hard! you need not tell me that. I would rather go on the treadmill than live with them-the women, I mean. Give somebody that shall be nameless his due; Mr. McCullagh is clever, and there is something about him that is not wholly repulsive; but the women have no single merit.'As was natural, the episode in Basinghall-street had caused no slight amount of conversation amongst those desirous that

amicable relations should, in parliamentary phrase,' continue to exist' between Robert and his father, and indeed, to speak truly, those also whose wishes ran in the opposite direction. Mr. Snow felt seriously disconcerted to find this secret also had leaked out; indeed, so much vexed was he that, rightly or wrongly, he would listen to no words of reason from Mr. Alfred Mostin, but persisted in accusing him of having chattered about matters which were no concern of his, and went so far as to say there were times and states when the hermit of North-street did not know his right hand from his left, or good from evil.Mr. Mostin had failed as signally, and much more truly, to obtain information concerning the real culprit, as proved the case in that detective business of his regarding the Upperton opposition. To Robert and his wife he confessed himself quite at sea, while to Mr. Snow he maintained a species of sullen defiance, inexpressibly aggravating to that gentleman.As regarded the Basinghall-street faction, it is not too much to say they were all, as Miss Nicol phrased their state of mind, 'on the simmer.' Of late, the question of how 'the old man' would leave his money had become a burning one. Ever since Robert's admission into Mr. Pousnett's house, his chances of a goodly legacy had been considered as much better as those of his brothers appeared worse; and it seemed good news Kenneth and Kenneth's wife, and father-in-law and mother-in-law, that Mr. McCullagh had found out the wickedness and deceit of his first-born before it was too late.'Ay, of late there had come a great change in him, said Kenneth impressively. 'He was getting too much "on" with Robert. Those Pousnetts were leading him straight to destruction; and we ought to feel thankful he has got to know what he has, ere worse came of it. I wonder how Robert could look him in the face, I really do!'From which it will be readily inferred Kenneth had adopted the simple plan of cutting a brother who chanced to be in disgrace.'We never stabled our horses together,' he said, in simple explanation of his course of conduct; 'and we are not likely to be able to bed them down side by side now.'Not so David. He professed to have observed to his father that he could not see what Robert had done so much amiss; and he went to Canonbury a good deal just about that period, complaining Miss Nicol and his parent were enough to drive a fellow to commit suicide.'And there's Kenneth,' he added, 'coming up to find out, if he can, whether the dad has made his will, or is going to make it.''Why, what ails him? isn't he well?' asked Robert, surprised.'What would ail him? retorted David, in contemptuous scorn of his brother's question; and indeed Mr. McCullagh's health was, to quote his own opinion on the subject, 'forbye.' 'Only,' proceeded the third-born, 'Kenneth thinks some sort of understanding should be come to now. For my own part, I am sure I wish he would give me whatever he means to give, and let me go my own way. I'd promise not to come back again in a hurry on his hands, like that bad shilling, the prodigal son.'Mr. David McCullagh indulged in a good deal of this sort of conversation, till Alfred Mostin, who one day happened to hear him, suggested to Robert, that, in the first place, 'David was a young man who knew his way about; and in the second, that he might be one of those not uncommon persons given to "runnning with the hare and hunting with the hounds;" in other words,' explained Alf pleasantly, as if he were stating an agreeable fact, 'I believe he only comes here to "fish and find out," and that you would do wisely to be on your guard as to what you say before him.''I am sure Robert says nothing about his father he need mind having published in the Times,' observed Janey, up in arms in defence of her husband at once.'Yes, if it gained nothing in the telling,' answered Mr. Mostin. 'You know what your brothers were, Bob, and I don't think any of them have altered much. Were I in your shoes, I'd show my gentleman his room would be preferred to his company. There are spies enough running loose somewhere, and you'll do well not to encourage one about your home.'Which advice Robert, much to the sorrow of his wife, who was beyond all things a peacemaker, followed so literally that David complained to his father Bob had insulted him most grievously--said he was a sneak and a hypocrite, and that the only thing they all wanted seemed to be to get him cut off with a shilling.'Ay, indeed,' commented Mr. McCullagh; 'I misdoubt he won't even have as much as that from me.''Ye show right good sense there,' observed Miss Nicol

encouragingly, for this was the first open statement Mr. McCullagh had made of how he felt minded as regarded pecuniary matters.'Hold your tongue, Janet,' was the crushing rebuke Mr. McCullagh administered. 'Ye've done your work, and ye've done it weel. There's no call for ye to drive the nail home any further--no call at all; and as for the rest of ye,' continued the successful man, addressing the only representative of that faction present in the flesh before him, 'ye needn't be troubling yourself about my money and how I propose to bequeath it. I am not dead yet, and I am not going to die for a year or two, maybe longer. Kenneth has been up with me, wanting what he calls his portion; but, as I told him, I've no notion of taking off my clothes before I go to bed. I want them all; and if I didn't, I wouldn't be so "blate" as to fling them to the first that came begging.'In all conscience this statement might have seemed sufficiently explicit; but it did not satisfy the pertinacious Kenneth, who felt that if any action of his could prevent Robert coming in with the rest, he would not mind taking an infinite amount of trouble to accomplish so praiseworthy an object.'Now is the time to get him to do something,' he remarked to David; but David only shook his head, and made emphatic reference to somebody who would be unequal to driving his father.'I am getting quite sick of it all,' he said; 'I'd no notion I was being brought south to do a clerk's work for less than a clerk's wage.''It's hard for ye,' agreed his brother, 'and it's hard for all of us. Who would ever have thought but matters could have been comfortably settled the minute he found out Robert's deceit?'Faith, Kenneth,' was the answer, 'I don't think Bob practised a bit more deceit than either of us would have done if we'd seen our way, or thought we'd seen our way, to make any money out of it.''You do not seem to understand,' said Kenneth mildly; 'this was a thing just beyond the common. After a fashion it was like stating ye'd been crowned King of England when ye hadn't.''I can't see it,' persisted David, who liked to torment his brother; 'Bob is partner in Pousnetts'. He did not lie about that.''He might just as good have lied about everything,' answered Kenneth, meanly refusing to accept the argument.'Well, well, have your own way of the matter,' said David, who could afford his brother this trifling vantage-ground. 'I only think that "fair and softly" wins in the long-run; and that ye're no actin' rightly to be aye reminding my father he's mortal, which he does not think he is.'And, indeed, Mr. McCullagh, supposing his son right, might well be excused forgetting he was heir to all the ills flesh must usually expect to inherit. He seemed made of iron; indigestion had no terrors for him, colds and coughs passed him by. He was one of those men who seemed likely to live to a ripe and hale old age; but the Liverpool connection decided robust health to be deceitful.'It's that sort,' said Kenneth to his wife, 'drops off in a minute. I should not feel surprised any day to hear he was gone.''Law!' exclaimed Mrs. Kenneth.'I should not, indeed. With all life is uncertain, and every one of us ought to settle his worldly affairs while strong and in health.''Yes, dear.'It was all very well for Mrs. Kenneth to agree in her husband's opinions, but he wanted something very different; he desired not merely the theoretical but practical concurrence of the Basinghall-street potentate in his views.As far as a man could go in the way of hints he had hinted; further, he had laid down general propositions on the subject of imprudent delays on the part of those 'possessed of something to leave,' to which Mr. McCullagh listened in silence; then, 'not to lose a chance,' he said plainly, he 'believed his father would be happier and more content if he made up his mind what he meant to do, and do it.''Because,' went on Mr. Kenneth, encouraged by the attentive expression in his parent's face, 'a great alteration has of late been wrought in many things.''Ay, that there has,' agreed Mr. McCullagh.'And it may be other things want changing in consequence.''Ye mean, I suppose, it would be agreeable to ye if I made a will leaving my worldly gear among the three of ye, or maybe the biggest slice to yerself?''All that, of course, sir, would have to be just as you
pleased; only it seems to me, as you must have put a good bit by, it would ease your mind if you knew you'd made sure none of it had been left in the way of being wasted.''There's something in what ye say,' conceded Mr. McCullagh.'I think there's a good deal in it,' said Kenneth, misled by his father's manner. 'Such matters should never be left at the mercy of a mere chance.''That's true enough; and as ye feel so strongly the that man's breath goes out of him like the puff of a candle, I'd advise ye to make your own will without delay.''I have, sir.''Have ye, now?' The 'pawky' tone in which Mr. McCullagh uttered these three words is unimaginable.Kenneth's strong point was not a sense of humour, so he took his father's exclamation as a question, and an simply,'I executed it on my wedding-day.''Save and bless us!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh. 'It's no every man has such a genius for combining business and pleasure.''If you choose to make a jest, sir, of what I considered to be my duty--' said Kenneth, colouring and biting his lips.'Jest, man! not a bit of it. A gruesome sort o' jest that would be; but maybe not a hair worse nor looking forward to being "streakit" when ye'd just taken a wife. Now I'm going to give ye a piece of advice: attend to your own affairs-there's plenty of them needing your thought, I'm sure--and leave me to attend to mine. I've minded them for near a quarter of a century before ye were thought of, and it's like, if the Lord spares me, I'll be able to mind them for a quarter of a century more.''He does think he's immortal,' groaned Kenneth, talking over the interview subsequently with his brother david.'After he has lived five-and-twenty years longer he'll still be no so old,' observed David dryly. 'What would hinder him lasting out to ninety or a hundred even? Ye're wrog to bother him about what'll happen after he's dead; ye'd do better to try and get something out of him while he's still going backwards and forwards through the City.'Greatly discomfited, Kenneth returned to Liverpool none the better for his journey to London--indeed, the worse, so far as that he was minus the expenses it involved.'Never mind, my lad,' observed old Mr. Johnstone, who chanced to be in Liverpool at the time; 'if your father says little now he'll think the more hereafter. He's a just man; and, besides, when a certain event comes off he'll be bound to consider the future a little. Get him down for the christening, and don't say a word more yourself, but leave all to me. I know how to take him, and as a man well set up with the world's gear my judgment ought to go far in influencing another placed in a similar position.'Mr. Johnstone might really have wrung some promise out of plain auld Rab--over those tumblers of toddy, of which both partook duly and truly, measuring carefully, sugaring scientifically, watering sufficiently yet not extravagantly, drinking slowly and with somewhat of religious solemnity--could Kenneth have refrained from confiding in his wife, and that lady been wise.But she drove Mr. McCullagh 'clean out of his mind.' As a bride she had seemed to him silly enough, but in that capacity she was a 'paragon of sense' in comparison to the way she 'carried on' as a mother.'O' a' the fules,' thought her father-in-law, watching her 'antics' in silent wonder--'o' a' the fules I ever did see in all my born days she's the biggest, and over such a bit wizened thing too, that I could put in my coat-pocket and never feel the weight. And to look at the old second-hand face of the creature, and the eyes of it! faith, it's more like a warlock nor a Christian baby; there's times when I'm a'most feared of it.'In blissful ignorance of the feelings excited by her offspring's 'uncanny' appearance in Mr. McCullagh's breast, Mrs. Kenneth pressed the child upon his notice as though it were some rare and beautiful production.'I know that infant "off by heart,"' he said afterwards; 'there wasn't a crease in its skin she didn't show me.'If Mrs. Kenneth had stopped even at this point there might not have been much harm done; but in her zeal to help forward the good work Kenneth had at heart, she could not refrain her tongue from touching on Robert's shortcomings.'And now that my precious has come,' she broke out, covering the 'wizened' face of the baby with kisses, 'its grandpapa will make an eldest son of its papa, won't he?' and in the playful exuberance of her spirits she 'dandled' the precious so near its grandpapa's nose that Mr. McCullagh recoiled involuntarily.As it clearly could not be from a child in arms, Mrs. Ken-

neth expected a reply to this inquiry, her father-in-law, making a virtue of necessity, answered it himself.'I don't know rightly what you mean,' he remarked. 'It's no in my power to alter the arrangements of Nature, and, as ye're aware, Robert came into the world before your husband.''Ah, but Robert has been naughty naughty, hasn't he, pet? told his poor good papa stories, and nearly broken his heart. My darling will never deceive his dear grandpapa, will he?''O, he'll no deceive me,' agreed Mr. McCullagh, looking with a feeling of disfavour both on mother and child.'No, that he wouldn't!' cried Mrs. Kenneth, rapturously caressing her offspring, and perfectly unconscious how completely she was 'putting her foot' in the affair.After a series of such conversations and such 'masked attacks,' as Mrs. Kenneth considered them, Mr. McCullagh returned to the pleasant seclusion of Basinghall-street, much troubled in his mind.He had never enjoyed an outing less, but he did not say so to Miss Nicol. Since the revelation of Robert's misdeeds a sort of armed neutrality had existed between that lady and himself. In his own terse language they were 'two,' for which reason conversation between them was confined to such generalities as, if they talked together at all, could not well be avoided.'The baby was well enough,' he told her; 'no big, but seemed strong and like to live. Ou ay, the mother was taken up with it, and for that matter the father too; upon the whole he thought Kenneth was the proudest. By the time he has to find shoes for a dozen he'll mend of that,' added Mr. McCullagh, with dry realism.'It was a grand christening; all the Liverpool friends and many of the Scotch relations--a gathering indeed with which not a fault could be found--people well before the world, and "considered." There were a heap of presents. Old Johnstone gave the nurse five guineas, which he, Mr. McCullagh, looked upon as a waste of money. Kenneth had a good house with plenty in it, and the eating was of the best, and they had everything needful; but on the whole he himself wasn't sorry to get home and be quiet again. He hadn't been in such a stir before since he was a bit of a callant and went to Sandy Jarvis's funeral.''Surely ye've forgotten the grand doings at Mr. Pousnett's,' suggested Miss Nicol.'No, I haven't; there was more noise in an hour down at

Kenneth's than ye'd hear in a week at Pousnett's.' Having delivered himself of which dubious compliment Mr. McCullagh took up the newspaper, a sign in that house the conversation might be considered at an end.Truth was Mr. McCullagh did not feel quite satisfied as to the way he had acted with regard to Robert. As has been seen, he never loved his first-born, and never probably would do so; but of late he had grown to like him. He knew he was not 'greedy,' many little courtesies and kindnesses shown by his son had touched the lonely man sensibly; he felt at home in the new house; it had seemed a great thing to have one of his flesh and blood partner in a big firm, and to be 'hand and glove' with Pousnett, so rich and powerful. If only he had never boasted about Robert being taken in without a halfpenny he could have condoned his son's silence as to the terms on which he entered the house. In all his worst qualities Alf Mostin understood his relative to a nicety; even the suspicion of being laughed at drove plain auld Rab to frenzy, and the secret knowledge that on more than one occasion he had maybe bounced a wee' filled him, now that he knew how matters stood, with agonies of shame and vexation.No, he felt he could not get over the 'trick' he had been served. He had said so much, and said it so often, to Robert about his good fortune in being taken in without a 'plack,' he bad lauded his 'foreknowledge' in such perfect good faith, that praised his own powers of discrimination so heartily, he had now, when he came to think over his utterances in the cold atmosphere of Miss Nicol's information, he felt 'just like ane beside himself.' And that such knowledge should have come to him through Janet, through her of all created beings, who bad 'aye' hated Robert and grudged him the way he got on in the world, and sneered at his fine-gentleman ways, and never lost a chance of saying something to his dispraise! It was very bitter, and Mr. McCullagh felt it to be so to the core of his nature. As a matter of course, he laid all the blame on Robert's wife. 'If he had never met her,' thought Mr. McCullagh, 'this would not have happened. She and that false treacherous loon, Ailfred Mostin, were in the swim, I'll be bound, before Robert thought of such a thing. Ay, its all plain enough: my son caught with a face he thought beyond the common, and all a-gleg to secure a seat in Pousnetts'; a common money-lender willin' to accommodate, knowing I was the poor simpleton's father; that's clear as clear can be. But

how, in the name of everything that's wonderful, did Janet come at it?'On this point Miss Nicol was far too able a diplomatist to vouchsafe the slightest information.'I heard it,' was the only answer she vouchsafed to Mr. McCullagh's eager questions.'But how did ye hear it?' he inquired.'One told me,' she replied.'And who might that one be?''I am thinking ye'll have to find out for yourself. I have said all I am going to say.'Now this was very hard on Mr. McCullagh. There were at least fifty possible people from whom the information might have come, and he puzzled and racked his brain to think of the 'ane' amongst that number most likely to have given it to her.'I'd give twenty pounds good money to know who she had it off,' he decided, after he had thought it over till he felt 'fit to think no more;' but in this liberal offer he was behindhand with Mr. Snow, who, coming to Basinghall-street for information, said he would gladly write out a cheque for fifty if he could only discover who was making himself busy with matters in Bush-lane.Mr. Snow was so genuinely angry that he almost carried Mr. McCullagh away with him.'There is some spy at work,' he said, 'and I'd be grateful if you could help me to unearth him. Put it to yourself, Mr. McCullagh, how should you like your most private concerns published in front of the Royal Exchange?''That would depend,' answered Mr. McCullagh virtuously. 'If there was no harm in anybody knowing, it wouldn't signify so much; and there's but little here I'd care was proclaimed by a town crier.''Supposing now, for instance your cousins got a list of your customers, you'd like to know, I imagine, how they had come by it.''Has any velain, then--' began Mr. McCullagh impetuously; but Mr. Snow stopped him with a short laugh.'Not that I am aware of,' he said. 'It was entirely a supposititious case; but mine is even worse than that. Many of your people must of necessity know your business. It has been my aim to confine mine within my own breast. Can you give me no clue at all? I do not like to suspect him, but yet I cannot help fixing on Mr. Alfred Mostin as the culprit.''Ailfred Mostin!' repeated Mr. McCullagh, as genuinely surprised as he had ever been.'None other,' replied Mr. Snow, watching the impression produced. 'You know him, I think?''Weel,' said Mr. McCullagh, after uttering which monosyllable he retired within himself to consider the idea presented. Mr. Snow did not interrupt this reverie. He hoped something would come of it.'Ye're wrang'--thus the Scotchman at last delivered his verdict--'altogether wrang.''Am I?' returned Mr. Snow, in the tone of one who felt satisfied he was altogether right.'Ye're out in that guess,' persisted Mr. McCullagh. 'There's not much, unless it might be common stealing, pilfering, shoplifting, or the like, I'd put past Ailfred; but he has not done this. He'd take his own father--if he had a father living-by the hand and lead him to ruin, as soon as he'd say "good-night;" he'd lie through a stone-wall; he thinks less of going through the Insolvent Court than you of crossing Cheapside; he'd drink the Thames dry if it was any sort of sperit; and he'd make a jeer and a scoff of the best word of advice that could be offered him; but he hasn't had a finger in this pie.''After the remarkably good character you have given him it would be hard to name the pie in which he might not have had a finger,' observed Mr. Snow.'Well, ye may content yourself about him so far as Robert's matter goes. He's far too fond of Robert and the wife, and he's no too fond of me--ay, I perceive ye are acquaint with that fact,' Mr. McCullagh broke off in the middle of his sentence to remark, seeing an irrepressible smile wandering over his visitor's face. 'Now I'll warrant me he has been saying things no just complimentary behind my back.''He did not say any harm of you, Mr. McCullagh,' Mr. Snow hastened to explain.'Ou ay; it's no so hard to guess the sort of conversation he has been treating ye to about me. I know he thinks me stingy and close-fisted; maybe even he goes so far as to liken me to some miserly old curmudgeon--and all for why, Mr. Snow? On my faith only because I wouldn't bestow my honestly bought and paid for goods on him, to be played at ducks and drakes wi'.''You see he has such a fancy for that game,' said Mr. Snow.'Conscience! I believe ye; but as I was remarking, was never to my knowledge a mischief-maker nor a tale-bearer; and besides, he hates Janet--that's my relative, Miss Nicol, ye understand--worse nor poison, and he'd keep a thing hidden for a lifetime rather than pleasure her by letting her know it. No, ye must search nearer home or go farther afield. I'd take my Bible oath the knowledge of my son Robert's folly hasn't been spread abroad by his cousin.''Of course I must attach considerable weight to any opinion you express,' said Mr. Snow, with that suave courtesy which had made Mr. McCullagh doubt he was a 'bit too civil.' 'Nevertheless, I am not quite convinced. And I will tell you what deepens my doubt of Mr. Mostin. So long back as Christmas last a word was hinted which induced me to tax him with talking about affairs that were no concern of his. He indignantly denied the imputation, and spoke with so much apparent honesty I not merely felt ashamed of my suspicion, but asked him to find out if possible the source through which my private concerns were made public. You know, I daresay, he is remarkably clever in unravelling mysteries and getting information.''He could not well be off getting to know a heap,' observed Mr. McCullagh, in explanation of one of Alf's numerous and useless gifts. 'He's aye on the go; and a man can't be in and out of fifty offices in the course of the forenoon without hearing something. Besides, he stands at bars and the like, and all the time he doesn't look like one hungering for knowledge, but just wearying for a drop of drink.''I see you understand our man as well as I do,' said Mr. Snow, who listened with remarkable patience to all Mr. McCullagh's utterances. 'Now I put it to you: do you believe he could have been all these months knocking about the City here and there and everywhere, amongst likely and unlikely people, and yet fail to obtain the smallest clue?''It does not sound very feasible, certainly,' agreed Mr. McCullagh, mindful of his own doubts with regard to the Upperton business; 'but I tell ye what most like is the case,' he added briskly; 'he has found out, and he does not want to let you into the secret. What his reasons may be of course I can't profess to guess; but ye may depend that's the way of it.'It was in the very early days of the coolness between father and son that this conversation took place; and months had passed by when Mr. McCullagh returned to Basinghall-street

from the delights of contemplating his first grandchild, and listening to the 'fool talk' of that 'simple silly body,' Kenneth's wife.The 'family,' as now represented by Kenneth, David, and Archie, aided and abetted by their respective clans, was no nearer a knowledge of the contents of 'auld Rab's will' than ever; or even, indeed, whether he had made a will at all. David was moving all the machinery he could set in motion to obtain even a mess of pottage at once out of the McCullagh resources. Archie was apparently 'lying on his oars;' Kenneth was writing letters, set to the same tune of how much he could do, aided by additional capital, with the regularity of a manifold copying machine; and Mr. McCullagh felt he was getting very tired of it all, when one morning, about a month after he had been asked to make an 'elder son' of Kenneth ('an elder de'il,' the Scotch Croesus impatiently remarked when thinking over the suggestion), there walked into his office no other than Alfred Mostin.The 'ne'er-do-weel' looked heated, excited, and triumphant.'Can I have a word with you in private, Mr. McCullagh?' he asked, with a 'laugh on his visage' which puzzled Mr. McCullagh 'sore.''Ye can; but I am sure ye have no word to say to me couldn't jest as well be spoken here,' answered Mr. McCullagh, without stirring from his desk.'I don't mean to speak it here, at any rate,' returned Mr. Mostin.'Have your way, then, if it'll pleasure ye,' said Mr. McCullagh ungraciously; 'though I must remark I am astonished to see ye in any office o' mine after the way in which ye have been trying to injure my trade.''Bless my soul!' exclaimed Mr. Mostin, as they walked side by side down the warehouse, 'did you ever imagine I should consider your trade or you either when my living was in question? No, no; you showed me the example of "Every man for himself" long ago; and I don't forget, Mr. McCullagh, whatever you may do.''We can let the past bide,' suggested the Scotchman, who, though he usually had right on his side, never could get the best of an argument with Alfred Mostin.'And the present, too, if you like,' was the answer. 'I can go away without speaking; though I am sure you want to know what I came to tell.'It's scarce worth your while to go away,' replied Mr. McCullagh, unlocking the door of his private room, and motioning his visitor to enter. 'The sight of ye took me by surprise, or it's like I wouldn't have said what I did.'Alf Mostin smiled ironically; but making no direct comment, he observed,'It's a good rule and a safe to lay down that 'there should be no friendship in business; but in private life it is hurtful for a man to feel those of his own blood are trying to ruin him.''In business or out of it a man's kinsfolk might be better
employed,' assented Mr. McCullagh, to whom Mr. Mostin's general
assertion appealed with the force of experience. 'Who has been trying
to ruin you, Ailfred?''Me! O, I don't know or care. I was not thinking about myself. My remark referred to Robert. I now know the person who told Miss Nicol how he got into Pousnett's.''Never!' ejaculated Robert's father.'I have though. Who do you suppose it was?''How should I tell? Haven't I been concedering the matter for months, without being able to come to any conclusion?''You will be surprised.''I daresay; maybe more surprised nor pleased. Come, Ailfred, leave off beatin' about the bush, and out wi't. What's his name?''Effie Nicol,' answered Mr. Mostin, with a jubilant exultation he was unable to conceal.'Effie!' repeated Mr. McCullagh. 'Ye're jokin'; it's no possible.''I am not joking, and it is the fact.''But how could Effie know anything about the matter?''I'll leave that for Mr. Snow to tell you,' answered Alf Mostin, too truly enchanted with the impression already produced to yield to the temptation of trying to enhance its effect. 'He bid me say, if you were in his neighbourhood any time before five, he'd be glad to see you.'There had been a period when, had any one delivered such a message to him, Mr. McCullagh would have answered, 'If Mister Snow wants to see me, he knows the way to Basinghall-street;' but now things were different--Mr. Snow was master of the situation. With the slightest regard to truth Mr. McCullagh could not say he was 'no that anxious' to hear

with whom Effie had 'foregathered,' able to give her news of his son's most secret doings.He felt that till he learnt everything which could be told he should be a miserable and dissatisfied man; so he sent a message back to Mr. Snow to the effect that he had business 'would take him into Oxford-court about two, and he'd look round in Bush-lane as soon after that hour as circumstances would pairmeet.'CHAPTER XXXII.
MR. M'CULLAGH IS AMAZED.WHEN Mr. McCullagh returned from that little pilgrimage round about London Stone, he shut himself up in his own room to digest the intelligence he had received, and to decide upon the course he meant to take.Mr. Snow's news affected him more than at the time he perhaps knew himself. It is one thing to listen to the words of a 'rantin' harum-scarum deevil,' which 'go in at one ear and out at the other;' and quite another to grasp facts communicated by a gentleman, who, whatever his trade, had 'respectable ways with him,' and spoke very fairly and seriously indeed about what had occurred.After all it was through Alfred Mostin light eventually came to be thrown upon the subject. Thrown off the scent by Mr. Snow's reticence concerning the manner of device he employed to keep all entries in his books secret, he did not set himself to watch the silent clerk, till an unguarded look in that young gentleman's eyes aroused his suspicions.Then he followed his steps from office to office, tracked him to his home, found out many of the persons with whom he associated. Yet still, though running close beside the track, he never got on it; and might eventually have missed his quarry altogether, had it not chanced almost by the merest accident that one Sunday afternoon, when he was proceeding to call upon an acquaintance resident in Millbank-street, he saw walking some distance in front two figures he thought he recognized.'It seemed too good to be true,' he explained to Mr. Snow afterwards. 'They were "daundering," as Mr. McCullagh would say, and I followed them at a safe distance into the Abbey; and there I soon saw that they had come, in fact, to an "understanding," though how such dummies ever managed to do so I confess I cannot imagine. After service, still keeping modestly in the background, I sauntered after them, and found they returned to the house of a Mrs. Olfradine, from whom the

festive Effie learned how to extract some awful sounds from the old piano in Basinghall-street. To cut a long story short, in fact, your man in black is Mrs. Olfradine's nephew; and he and Effie walk out together.''There remains little doubt,' said Mr. Snow, 'you have hit the right nail on the head at last; but still I am unable to imagine how he obtained his information.''Yes, and that I cannot find out for you till I have some idea of the nature of the cipher in which you keep your books.''And that is precisely what I do not want to tell you,' answered Mr. Snow.'Just as you like, of course; but it is evident Hunt has the key to the puzzle.'Mr. Snow remained silent for a moment; then he said,'After all, I do not know that it matters much. I mean to give up the Bush-lane business shortly, and then the books must be kept in plain English, instead of in German.''That's the mystery, is it? And what makes you believe this beggar does not understand German?''I asked him when he first came if he were conversant with any foreign language; and he said, "No, unfortunately not."''O!' and Mr. Mostin's exclamation seemed to contain in itself a whole commentary; 'we will soon find out how much truth there was in that statement. You never have, I suppose, employed polyglot clerks?''Certainly not.''Then depend upon it our friend had been informed of your peculiarity, and very likely came in as a spy. There is more of that sort of thing being done in London than you can imagine; the trade-lists and inquiry offices are mainly responsible for converting innocent young men into troublesome detectives. I hope you will not take any action in this matter till every link in the chain is complete.''Rely upon my discretion,' said Mr. Snow, handing Mr. Mostin a cheque, which caused the heart of that vagabond individual to leap for joy.And now every link in the chain being indeed complete, Mr. Snow, clerkless, yet happy, slowly unwound the whole affair for Mr. McCullagh's information. How Mrs. Olfradine's nephew--the affianced of that silent and discreet young woman Effie--who understood German as well as he did English, had been selling information to all who, in a quiet and safe way, wanted to obtain and were willing to pay for it; how he, Mr. Snow,

had thrust him without ceremony out of the paradise of Bush-lane; and advised him not to refer there for a character.To Mr. McCullagh it all seemed very dreadful. His lines had not lain amongst dishonest people, and the disclosures made directly and incidentally by Mr. Snow shocked him beyond measure.'Why, I'll be lookin' next with a dubious eye on Alick, our bit errand-boy,' he considered, as he moved homeward. 'And how am I to meet and greet that fause hussy I deemed too fond of Robert even to try and hurt a hair of his head? Wae's me, it's just awfu';' and he locked himself into his own room to digest the mass of information thrust down his throat.No man would have liked less to own his ultimate course of procedure was influenced by hints received from another, yet it is certain a slight suggestion of Mr. Snow, that it might be as well before launching any thunderbolt at Effie's head to 'watch and wait,' had a considerable effect in determining Mr. McCullagh to 'lie canny.''I'll no give Janet the satisfaction of thinkin' I am troublin' myself now about the matter,' he decided; 'and as for Effie, it'll be good practice observing how she goes on knowin' the harm she has wrought. Still, I wish she hadn't been coming for dinner. It's just ower soon to meet her after what I've heard.'He had arrived at this point in the argument, when Alick knocking at his door announced the arrival of a note from Mr. Pousnett.'What's in the wind now, I wonder?' thought Mr. McCullagh, tearing open the letter, and reading:'"Dear McCullagh." My! but we're familiar! That's the way they do, though, among themselves, I've noticed, so I darena doubt it's all right and proper."Dear McCullagh,--The weather
keeps so fine we are still at Larchwater." (He does not mean, I
suppose, ever since I was there last, for I've dined with him since in
Portman-square. Weel, weel.) "A few friends are coming to us this
evening I should like you to know. May I, at so short a notice, beg
you to come down and stop the night? My wife will be charmed, and I
have a project nearly ripe, upon which I should like to take your
opinion. Were I not tied here to the last moment I would call round in
Basinghall-street; but I shall look out for you at Waterloo at a
quarter to five, and trust you will not
disappoint.--Yours faithfully,HERRION POUSNETT."'The very thing, by my saul! just what I wanted!' cried Mr. McCullagh, delighted at the thought of escaping Effie and Miss Nicol; 'it has come in the very nick o' time. Na, na, I won't disappoint ye, Mr. Herrion Pousnett. What'll I want, now?' and he plunged into the mysteries of wardrobe and toilet with an enthusiasm which would have amazed Janet had she been there to see.As matters stood she was up-stairs with Effie, talking over various domestic incidents with that self-contained young person, when Mr. McCullagh put his head inside the door. 'Janet,' he began; and then making a feint of seeing her relation for the first time, he went on diplomatically, 'Is that Effie? and how's the world using ye?''O, very well,' chanted Effie mournfully, drawing a skein of wool out to its full length as she answered.'That's right,' said Mr. McCullagh. 'I have just come up, Janet, to bid ye no wait deener for me; I am going out of town, and won't be back to-night.''Not back to-night!' echoed Miss Nicol; 'why, where--' But by this time Mr. McCullagh was down in the hall, and telling Alick to fetch him a hansom.'A hansom!' repeated Miss Nicol, leaning over the balusters, and listening to these mandates. 'A hansom! What next, I wonder?'Quite relieved to have left Basinghall-street behind him, Mr. McCullagh in that conveyance, the mere mention of which scandalised Miss Nicol, bowled merrily along.'Ah, here you are!' cried Mr. Pousnett cheerily, as the cab-wheel grated the curb. 'I am so much obliged to you. We have plenty of time. Wonderful weather for the time of year, isn't it?'Which greeting, when written down in black and white, does not sound anything very extraordinary; but when set to the accompaniment of cap-touching porters, and deferential inspectors, and obsequious policemen, each one more eager than his fellow to do honour to the great man, stirred even Mr. McCullagh's cold blood with the feeling that he had 'got into unco' guid company.'This was the sentiment, indeed, with which Mr. Pousnett always inspired him. The Pousnett position was undeniable. Let who would have to pay for keeping it up, the Pousnetts were quite sure to have the enjoyment, and, as a natural

consequence, a portion of the glory surrounding them shone likewise on any guest they delighted to honour.Into the compartment occupied by Mr. Pousnett and Mr. McCullagh there entered two gentlemen, who greeted the former with evident gratification. One, Mr. McCullagh knew by sight as the head of a great house trading with China; the other, Mr. Pousnett addressed as Sir Robert; and both having  the same pleasant and genial manner which distinguished the head of the Pousnett firm, the four were soon engaged in a 'most enjoyable' conversation, in which the state of the Funds, the hollow peace with Russia, the recent illuminations, popular sentiment as regarded the Emperor of the French, were mere casual trifles.To a man like Mr. McCullagh, who, having 'the gift o' gab,' had all his life long, till he knew Mr. Pousnett, been doomed either to bury that talent in a napkin, or use it for the benefit of those who did not' possess the wit to see the stuff was in him,' such a journey seemed a delight not to be expressed in words.The train they travelled by was an express, and only stopped once after leaving Twickenham, till it reached the station nearest Larchwater, so that they really had opportunity for exchanging many ideas even before arriving at Staines, where Sir Robert alighted.'I must have another talk with you, Mr. McCullagh,' he said; 'your views as regards a Chamber of Commerce for London are quite new to me, and well worth considering,' he added pompously. 'I am delighted to have made your acquaintance, and shall hope to meet you again ere long.''The best thing you can do,' said Mr. Pousnett, 'is not to separate from Mr. McCullagh now. Come on and dine with us. I need not tell you how pleased my wife will be to see you.'And I am sure I need not say how pleased I should be to see Mrs. Pousnett,' answered Sir Robert gallantly; 'but, unhappily, it is impossible. A number of relations are to dine with us to-night.''Ah, I cannot offer an equal attraction,' observed Mr. Pousnett. His face was perfectly grave as he made the remark, and in his tone nothing whatever facetious could be detected. Nevertheless, perhaps because his own feeling concerning kinship chanced at the moment to be singularly antagonistic to the sentiment expressed, Mr. McCullagh, as the train moved on, laughed secretly at Mr. Pousnett's observation.'He is no fool,' decided the Scotchman. 'He's a deep one.'The whole of the ' deep one's' family greeted Mr. McCullagh with effusion. Mrs. Pousnett, fatter if possible, and more elaborately dressed than ever, took his hand in both of hers, while she asked,'Where have you been all this long, long time?'Mr. McCullagh intimated he had been at home, which caused Mrs. Pousnett to say reproachfully,'What, not out of London! and yet you never came to see me!'The Scotchman very nearly retorted that he had not been asked, for such a thing as a morning call was quite beyond the wildest stretch of his imagination; and, indeed, no one would probably have been more surprised than Mrs. Pousnett had the guest her husband delighted to honour walked into her drawing-room uninvited. He checked the remark, however, and answered gallantly, 'she might be sure it was not of his own free will he had kept away.' The young ladies also were friendly; and the lord who was of the company claimed Mr. McCullagh as an old acquaintance, and mentioned some incidents of their former encounter, which showed, as the Scotchman thought, 'his memory was not so defective as any one might expect considering his age.'There were only four strangers present, and they all 'took notice' of Mr. McCullagh, devoting themselves to that gentleman, falling into conversation with him, and altogether treating him with every mark of flattering distinction.As usual, the dinner was excellent, the wine of the best quality, the service perfect. Whilst the ladies remained, talk ran slowly on topics in which they were supposed to feel an interest; but when they departed the men drew closer together, and plunged into politics, investments, and subjects of kindred nature, in the discussion of which Mr. McCullagh proved himself quite at home.'And when, Mr. Pousnett,' asked Lord Cresham at length, in a lull of the babble of words which had been going on for some time,' shall we see your, or it might be better to say our, advertisement in the Times?''It will appear on Saturday,' was the answer.'Why Saturday?'Because the next day is Sunday.''You are with us in this matter, I suppose?' said one of the gentlemen, addressing Mr. McCullagh.'I don't know what you allude to,' was the reply.'No,' interposed Mr. Pousnett. 'I have not yet had an opportunity of speaking to Mr. McCullagh. Fact is,' he went on, with a frank and winning smile, 'we are going to make Pousnetts' one of the greatest firms in the kingdom.''It was always great enough, I should have thought, to content anybody,' said Mr. McCullagh.'Mr. Pousnett is not easily contented.' observed the gentleman who had inquired whether Mr. McCullagh was 'with them.''I am quite satisfied, at all events,' said the merchant prince, 'that in business no man can stand still. He must be either going forward or backward; and as I have no fancy for doing the latter, I mean to travel with the times. Glance over this, Mr. McCullagh, and tell me what you think of it.'Mr. McCullagh took the sheet of paper Mr. Pousnett handed to him. The first words he perceived as he laid document open before him almost took away his breath: 'POUSNETT & CO. (LIMITED).' The buzz of conversation, which had for a moment been interrupted, began over again; but Mr. McCullagh did not distinguish a word that was said; he could not at first even understand the precise purport of Mr. Pousnett's circular; it took him some minutes to recover from the suddenness of the blow dealt him by that expression 'Limited.' Every prejudice of his nature, every feeling he cherished, rose in antagonism to the most 'wicked and foolish Act Parliament ever passed.' '"Limited"--faith!' he thought, 'if their responsibility is, their notions aren't. "Fifty thousand shares at twenty pounds apiece." Why, that's a million of money! "Directors--Herrion Pousnett, Esq. (Pousnett & Co.,) Portman-square, Larchwater, Middlesex, and Norman Castle, Hampshire"--bless and save us!--"Giles Pousnett, Esq., Mersey House, Liverpool; Hume Pousnett, Esq. (Pousnett & Co.), Melbourne; Lord Cresham, Forest View, Berkshire, and Drumkaldy Park, Co. Cork; Robert McCullagh, Esq. (Pousnett & Co.), Leadenhall-street; General Vanderton, Upper Wimpole-street; Jacob Alty, Esq., Bow; James Hinton, Esq., Bombay; Hugh Stoddard, Esq., The Chase, Andover. Bankers--Messrs. Harrison, Hunter, & Co., Lombard-street. Solicitors--Messrs. Powish & Melton, New-square, Lincoln's-inn. Secretary, Stanley Pousnett, Esq. Offices-Leadenhall-street."''This company is formed,' read on poor Mr. McCullagh 'for the purpose of acquiring the important business of Messrs. Pousnett & Co., established for over a century and a half.'Then there followed approximate statements of the enormous profits that had been made, and the still more gigantic profits which were to be made by suitable extension and judicious development. It was a very well and cleverly-written prospectus, which had no doubt been compiled by Herrion Pousnett, Esq., whom Mr. McCullagh found proposed for the present to remain as manager, and to give the new business that important aid only to be afforded by the senior partner's long experience and practical knowledge of the trade. As to the sum to be paid for the acquisition of the business and the benefit of Mr. Pousnett's invaluable services, the circular was silent; but a neat paragraph assured all those whom such subjects could concern that every information regarding the agreements and contracts entered into could be obtained from the secretary. Intending subscribers were to pay five pounds per share on application, and five pounds on allotment, and no further call was to be made without three months' notice.Mr. McCullagh read the document twice over before he grasped even these salient points, and of necessity there were a vast number of minor details that escaped his attention; but he perceived quite enough to satisfy him that Pousnett & Co. (Limited) would be a very close borough, and that, let who might lose by the transaction, the senior partner was sure to come out a winner.'I shouldn't wonder,' he considered, 'if they do gather very near that million of money;' and he handed the prospectus back to Mr. Pousnett.'What do you think of it ? asked the senior partner, with the impulsive openness of a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.'It's very well put together,' answered Mr. McCullagh.'You will join us, I hope?''You are verra kind.''It would be a real pleasure to me to see your name on the board of directors.''You are verra good indeed.'The person did not live who could have made an accurate guess as to what was passing in Mr. McCullagh's mind while he treated his host to these non-compromising utterances.'Will you allow me, then, to add your name to our list?''I thank you greatly; but the notion is new to me-quite new, you see.''Of course; and I am very sorry I could not consult you

sooner. There is no necessity for an immediate decision, only that as the names of the directors are first published it might be better for them to remain. However, Mr. McCullagh, we will always strain a point in your favour.''I am sure I am greatly beholden to ye.''We are all going to make our fortunes out of the succeses of Pousnett & Co. (Limited),' observed Lord Cresham gaily.'That will be a good thing,' observed Mr. McCullagh.'Only you have so much money, you do not perhaps care about making any more,' suggested Mr. Pousnett.'I have no cause to complain; but I could do with another pound or two,' said Mr. McCullagh.There was a laugh at this, caused more, perhaps, by the Scotchman's manner than his words; and then, seeing in his present mood nothing definite was to be got out of this 'hard nut,' Mr. Pousnett shortly proposed adjourning to the drawing-room.Evidently Mrs. Pousnett had been asleep; but she woke up at sight of Mr. McCullagh, whom she insisted should come and sit near her; 'for I am longing for your opinion,' she added. 'I want to know whether you think this scheme of Herrion's will transform us into millionaires or land us in the workhouse.''I don't think ye've much call to fear the workhouse,' said Mr. McCullagh, who, having now gathered his wits somewhat together, was able to bring some of the resources of his mind to bear on the astounding fact which had been communicated to him.'Well, it is a comfort to hear you say that, at all events. But do
you imagine we shall make any money?''It seems to me ye stand a very good chance.''O, I am so infinitely obliged to you. I shall now feel much better satisfied. And you are going to help Mr. Pousnett make the affair a grand success?''My poor help would not be much use to him.''You are mistaken; indeed, indeed it would. Herrion is so impulsive that the restraining influence you could exercise over him would be beyond all price. Do, dear Mr. McCullagh, make me happy by saying you are going to be one of us in this great undertaking.''I'd like well to make ye happy,' was the answer; 'but I would rather not say anything one way or another till I have turned the matter over in my mind. I've scarce yet been able

to take hold of the notion. I always thought till an hour ago that Mr. Pousnett was as much set against limiting liability as myself.''But we all think that so charming,' put in Miss Vanderton, coming forward at this juncture; 'we may make so much, and we can lose so little. It is quite as exciting as a lottery. We have all applied for shares.''That is setting a good example, anyway,' said Mr. McCullagh.In view of the great matter involved, all this talk seemed to him childish. 'Still, one must please the ladies,' he reflected, with polite tolerance of feminine weakness.But, spite of the attention paid him by Mr. Pousnett's female belongings, Mr. McCullagh was not enjoying himself in the least. He knew now he had been asked down for a purpose; and it was beginning painfully to dawn upon his mind that from the very commencement the senior partner had sought his society, not for any abstract pleasure he found in it, but just because he wanted to make use of him.'Though how he purposed to do it beats me,' considered the Scotchman, sitting in the shadow of Mrs. Pousnett's person, and looking certainly as much out of his element as could be well imagined.Casting about in his mind for some remark to make which should be far enough away from limited liability, a subject which filled him with affright, he ventured to ask if Mrs. Pousnett had heard anything lately about Captain Crawford.'Yes,' answered that lady easily. 'He was wounded, you know, and came home during the summer on sick-leave. He has been staying with his relatives in the north ever since.''He was a very nice gentleman,' said Mr. McCullagh.'Yes, I had always a high opinion of him, and both Mr. Pousnett and I regretted any coldness should have arisen between us. He was unreasonable. Ah, what a pity it is one cannot put wise heads on young shoulders!''I thought he had a wonderfully wise head for his time of life,' answered Mr. McCullagh, puzzled; 'and I am sorry to hear you and he came to any outfall.''We did not quarrel, if that is what you mean,' said Mrs. Pousnett; but Herrion was obliged to tell him very plainly that he must not come here unless he gave up all idea of Pauline. It is dreadful when a man will not take "No;" it

causes so much unpleasantness; and we had quite other views for her. Still, as I said before, I feel very sorry about the matter, for he was a pleasant young man, and when he has got over his little annoyance, I trust we may see him again.'The evening passed slowly. Notwithstanding the efforts time seemed to hang heavily on hand, and Mr. Pousnett only brightened up when his guests took their departure.'Now, Maude, let us have some music,' he said, ere the wheels of the last carriage were heard grating over the gravel. 'Mr. McCullagh will not come to see us again if we do not entertain him better.''I have been telling Mr. McCullagh about your new purchase, Herrion,' observed Mrs. Pousnett as Maude went to the piano.'Yes, I shall make some money out of that speculation,' answered her husband, turning towards Mr. McCullagh. 'I should like you to see the place, which I bought almost literally for an old song. The Castle is a mere ruin, but the situation is something too perfect. After a time I shall put the Castle in order, however, and try to develop the resources of the position. The land lies beside the sea, and I have an idea might be made most remunerative.''What did I tell you, Mr. McCullagh? asked Mrs. Pousnett playfully.'Well, my dear, when I begin to lose money it will be time enough for you to find fault with my speculations,' answered Mr. Pousnett.'And that is just the time when everybody else will begin to find fault with them,' said Mr. McCullagh.'Then I must not give them the chance,' retorted Mr. Pousnett; after which observation it was felt better to lead the conversation away from business and business matters, and so at length the weary evening drew to a close, and Mr. McCullagh found himself alone in a very grand bedroom, where, by the light of such a fire as had never been seen in the Basinghall-street house since he took possession, he could consider at his leisure the number of strange events that of late seemed crowding into his life.'Only to conceder him asking for a million of money-a million, no less!' he thought, referring to Mr. Pousnett. 'Well, it cannot take a trifle to keep up the places I have seen, and now he must go and buy another. I don't feel just disposed ever to set foot in his doors again,' finished Mr. McCullagh,

having an uneasy foreboding he never again would be asked to set foot in them.'There is neither pleasure nor profit to be had out of him,' said Mr. Pousnett to his wife.'I think he is delightful, Herrion,' was the answer; 'quite refreshing in comparison to some of the persons one has to entertain.'On their way back to London in the morning, Mr. Pousnett asked Mr. McCullagh plainly if he should include his name in the advertisement which was to appear in Saturday's Times.In answer Mr. McCullagh made a general statement to the effect that 'no offence being meant he trusted none would be taken. He looked upon the new act as a very great evil; he believed eventually it would lead to very reckless trading; he conceded that the system was plausible and fair enough in theory, but he contended it would never wash in practice. He did not think it was a good thing to trade on other folks' money, and he felt satisfied limited liability would benefit very few and ruin a great many. To be quite straightforward, which he believed to be always best in the long-run, though it might not please at the time, he would not give the help of his name to anything of the kind. If he did he should feel himself bound to look after the interests of the shareholders, who would likewise look to him for seeing their good money was being so used that a profit might come of it.'How long he might have proceeded in this strain is uncertain, had Mr. Pousnett not cut across the dissertation sharply with,'I am sorry to find you entertain such prejudices against a system which will eventually, I am satisfied, become universal. I hoped you would have liked to join us, and help on your son. We shall manage, however, I daresay,' he added with an ironical smile, which hurt Mr. McCullagh very much indeed, and caused him again mentally to repeat the statement that he would not go to Pousnett's again.'They are a cut above me,' he acknowledged, throwing a sop to his vanity; ' and besides, I'm not sure I jest like their ways.'Mr. McCullagh was fast travelling towards a state of mind in which he felt that he did not just like the ways of anybody with whom he came in contact. Other people, he found, were as determined to follow their own course as he had ever been

New methods of doing business were coming up; plodding and economy and discretion were going out of fashion, and daft crazy notions taking their place. He had no comfort either in his children; they were like dogs pulling contrary ways; the only time they ever agreed was in deciding he did not do right. And then Janet and he could not 'sort' well now; and as for Effie, he did not care to think about her!When, on the Saturday following, the announcement Pousnett & Co. (Limited) burst upon the astounded City of London, David McCullagh rushed breathlessly to his father with the news.'They say half the shares are subscribed for already, and that by this day week there won't be one in the market.''Like enough; fools and their money are soon parted.''But that's the way to send a business along now,' said David. 'If you would only follow suit we could soon make the Scotch trade profitable.''I never heard it wasn't,' said Mr. McCullagh.'Well, you know what I mean. If Pousnett can have a million of money by just holding up his finger, we ought to be able to get two or three hundred thousand without much trouble.''As long as I live that is not going to be done,' declared Mr. McCullagh.'I think ye're quite wrong.''I am aware ye hold that opeenion.''It's no good lying down to be trampled on.''It's no good making an edeot of yourself.''I wish ye would give me that business in Crutched Friars, and ye should soon see what I'd change it into.''I'll do nothing of the sort.''Will ye sell it?''No, I won't sell it.''What will ye do then, sir?''I haven't just made up my mind.''I am sure I never expected when I left MacGalpin's that ye only wanted to use me as a kind of cross between an errand-boy and a clerk.''And I am very sure I never thought when I sent for ye to MacGalpin's I was bringing such a plague of Egypt on me.''Now I wonder which plague of Egypt he means to liken me to?' said David, speaking apparently to vacancy.'The whole of them,' answered Mr. McCullagh vehemently.'Among ye my life's a weariness. Money, money, money, is the cry from one week's end to another. There isn't one of ye is content to creep his way as I did, stinting myself, and making a profit there and laying a trifle by here. Ye want the best of everything, and then if ye got it ye'd barely say "Thank ye."''I wish you would only try me,' retorted David.It was probably more desperation than any hope his father could be induced to do much beyond paying him a very insufficient salary that induced David to speak with such irritating plainness. Greatly to his astonishment, however, he found ere a month was gone that words spoken by him in very hot blood had been considered calmly, and were likely to bear fruit he never expected.'I have thought over what ye said to me that day ye were put out because I wouldn't change my honest trade into a swindling company,' began Mr. McCullagh, ' and I feel satisfied ye'll never be content with me, any more than I should be content with you. The new ways ye're so fond of aren't mine; and besides, I've no necessity to put on spectacles to see ye're all laying your heads together to carry out some plan of circumventing me; so as I want to act fair by you, I've made up my mind I'll give you and Archie a thousand pounds apiece, and ye can start what trade ye like and conduct it on whatever prenceeple seems to ye best. I'll not have any of ye mixed up with me, mind, and I'd be glad if ye'd both take yourselves off to some other house than this. I've been used to a quiet regular home, and at my time of life it's not fair to expect me to put up with the hours ye and Archie keep, and the way ye despise food and lodging for which I've never charged ye a penny.''I'm very sorry, sir,' David stammered; but his father answered,'Ye're no sorry a bit. What is good enough for me doesn't content you and your brother, and I'm tired of it.''If I vexed you I didn't intend to do so,' maintained David stoutly. 'All I thought and think is that, unless people have some good of their money they might as well be without it.''I have had plenty of good of my money,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'and even if I hadn't, the money is mine, not yours. It does seem to me the very height of impudence to come to a man's house and say ye should live this way or the other. Where's your right to bid me do anything?''We'd better not talk about it,' said David, with an affectation of repentance he was far from feeling. Though a thousand pounds seemed but a poor amount in comparison to that he once hoped Kenneth might wring for each of them from his father, it was far too large a sum to jeopardise by an injudicious exhibition of temper.That same evening, Mr. McCullagh having previously intimated to his bookkeeper, Mr. Roy, that he would probably 'look round about nine,' proceeded, at the hour named, to a small house situated in a street off the City-road, where Mrs. Roy supplemented her husband's earnings by keeping a little shop. It was a family of which Mr. McCullagh greatly approved; the two daughters were apprenticed, one to a milliner, and the other to a dressmaker. The only son held a situation in the London Joint-Stock Bank. Mr. and Mrs. Roy had put 'something in the stocking' in anticipation of a rainy day; and they were all discreet and well-doing, and scarcely more given to general conversation than Effie herself.'As ye're aware,' said Mr. McCullagh, when he and the bookkeeper were closely shut within the 'back parlour,' I always declared I never would take a pairtner.''You aye said that,' agreed Mr. Roy. It was an assent which committed him to nothing. As Miss Nicol had through the years looked forward to matrimony as the reward of her devotion to Mr. McCullagh, so, deep in the depths of his heart, Mr. Roy still cherished a hope that one day the Scotch merchant might take him by the hand, and say, 'Ye shall come into the business; ye've worked hard, and ye've worked honest, and it's only fair now ye should taste the sweets of your long labour.''No, I never will take a pairtner,' repeated Mr. McCullagh, unconscious of the air castle he was demolishing with a word, 'so it's useless for me to cast about and think who there is solid enough, and able and clever enough, to join me; but I have been considering that I'll make a change-a great change--not sudden, ye know, or all in a hurry, but just by degrees, as seems fit. By what I can see there's money to be made in that new place of ours if it was properly seen to; and what I have it in my mind to do, is work the most of the trade from there instead of Basinghall-street. Now what I've got to say to ye in a word is this: I have arranged for my sons not to be in Crutched Friars much longer; and if ye think ye could, with the help of some decent lad under ye, do the

take the chief o' the management there, I'd make it worth your while.'Mr. Roy said, and truthfully, that he would be very glad to do anything that lay in his power; and that he thought, what with the shippers, and what with the home connection that lay in that part of London, there was a 'heap' more to be done than ever had been.'And I've this to say,' he added, 'if I were you, Mr. McCullagh, I'd try to work the West-end a bit more nor has ever been attempted. I could name many a house where I am positive if ye would only call yourself once, the custom might be secured. These are times when everybody'll have to look alive; and ye know I'll help ye to the best of my abelety.''I'll no be worsted in my own trade by my own sons,' considered Mr. McCullagh as he walked home; 'and there's no tellin' what they've got in their minds.'Pacing back to Basinghall-street he felt in a most agreeable humour. He knew at last he had adopted the proper course. Ever since David's advent he had felt on the verge of a volcano. 'Now,' he considered, 'I shall have everything again in my own hands; and I don't care a straw about the opposition. Nobody will take one of my best customers, I'm certain.' Which, as matters had turned out, was a very safe statement. Only the reader may remember that Mr. McCullagh's views once were different.'Is that you?' said Miss Nicol, putting her head over the balusters and looking down into the hall, where her kinsman was taking off his hat and coat, and anticipating an hour's quiet in the company of his newspaper and a tumbler. 'Is that you?''Who else would it be?' answered Mr. McCullagh.'Could you step up a minute?''Certainly, if I'm wanted.''I've a word to say to ye.''Well, what is it?' asked Mr. McCullagh, ascending the stairs.'I've got a letter from John.''That's nothing to make a song about.''Ay, but ye don't know what's in it.''How can I know what's in it till ye tell me?''Ye've maybe have heard your mother speak of Randal McDonald.'By this time they were in the room where Mr. McCullagh

was first presented to the reader. It looked barer even than at that period; and there was but a spark of fire burning in the grate, for the master of the house preferred boiling up the kettle in his own apartment, and taking his toddy where he was quite secure from the incursions of his sons.'I've heard her talk of a Randal that went out to America when she was a girl,' he said, taking a chair, in order to survey at his leisure the extraordinary spectacle of Miss Nicol in a state of tremulous excitement; 'he must have been dead many a day.''No such thing,' she answered. 'He only died last August, and he has left legacies to all the Nicols. I don't know much he wasn't worth, but at any rate me and Effie are to have three thousand pounds apiece.''That'll be good news for Effie,' observed Mr. McCullagh coldly. He was not so delighted to hear of this piece fortune as he might have been; indeed Mr. McCullagh, was not, as a rule, ecstatic over such pieces of luck as fell to his acquaintances. Without being exactly jealous, he had a notion people got sometimes too 'much uplifted.''And it's good news for me, I'm thinkin',' said Miss Nicol.'No doubt, Janet, no doubt. Ye'll have to invest it prudently; well-managed, it ought to yield a hundred and fifty a year.''And that'll be a comfortable competence.''And something for ye to depend upon, for ye're no getting younger, Janet.''I'm getting wiser, though,' she retorted.'That's a fine hearing; ye'll need to keep your wits about ye now.''Why should I stand so much in need of sense all in a minute?' she inquired.'Because ye'll have all the young men running after ye.''Then they may run,' said Miss Nicol indignantly. 'And that,' she added after a pause, 'is all the congratulation ye've to give me?''Ye'll have plenty from other folk now ye've got such a fortune,' he answered.CHAPTER XXXIII.
MISS NICOL IS DISAPPOINTED.OVER the waves of success the new barque Pousnett & Co. (Limited) floated gaily.David McCullagh had not overshot the mark when he said the shares were being snapped up eagerly. Pousnetts' was about the first house with a great reputation to take the initiative of 'allowing the general public to participate in its profits,' and the general public proved itself grateful for the chance afforded.Before the City had got over its surprise at the march Mr. Pousnett seemed to have stolen on every one, not a single share remained unsubscribed, and at the end of the first twelve-month the twenty-pound shares were quoted at thirty-five.Everything went on smilingly in Leadenhall-street. Mr. Herrion Pousnett was blander and more gracious than ever. He sometimes bought goods from Mr. McCullagh, which he took very excellent care to have invoiced to him at the same price as he could purchase in the Minories; and on such occasions he quite overpowered Mr. Roy with his condescension, balancing himself on an office-stool, and talking business over with the bookkeeper, just, said Mr. Roy, 'as if he were no more nor myself.'Even Mr. McCullagh could not always resist the charm of his manners, though he declared he'd 'never be able to abide him now he had given that daughter of his in marriage to the old lord, who might be her grandfather or great-grandfather, for that matter.'Captain Crawford, left completely out in the cold, found a ready sympathiser in Mr. McCullagh.'It's just awful to think of,' said his friend. 'Why, I'm quite a young man--a boy--in comparison!''The second daughter is going to marry Stoddard after all,' observed the officer; 'but then, he's as rich as Croesus. Ah, they threw me over when the relation, whose property I expected to inherit, married a governess.'Captain Crawford was so well satisfied with the amount

Mr. McCullagh had added to his store that he begged him still to take charge of it.'At some future day I may feel glad to know I am a comparatively rich man,' he said, with a smile he tried to make bright, but which bore traces of the trouble he had battled with.'There is no state of life or mind,' answered Mr. McCullagh, 'that's possible to man, where worldly gear doesn't prove a comfort.'Whatever Captain Crawford's sentiments might be, he did not feel inclined to discuss them, although the conversation took place at a friendly dinner provided by Mr. McCullagh, not, however, in Basinghall-street.During the course of the year which had elapsed since the senior partner retired modestly from that exalted position, and 'consented' to take the management of a million of money, David and Archibald McCullagh had over in the Borough started a great Scotch warehouse on their own account, with a branch in Liverpool in which Kenneth had an interest, and another at Glasgow that was managed by a clerk under the direction and supervision of old Mr. Johnston.There was not a thing likely or unlikely those young men had not in stock. Their lists were of an appalling length. 'At ten minutes' notice,' said David, 'I'd victual a man-of-war.' They did not stand nice about bribing when a few pounds would secure a good order. They were always about. There seemed no one they failed to make acquaintance with. They lived together in Trinity-square, on what was then usually, and often still is, called the 'wrong side of the water.'So far Mr. McCullagh in Crutched Friars was skimming the cream of the trade. His old connection and his established character for selling none save the best goods to be had in the market still kept him ahead of the new-comers; but he had sense enough to see this could not last-that more dangerous competitors than his sons or cousins would eventually arise, and that he could not, to use his somewhat melancholy phrase, 'hope to keep a grip of the market for ever.''But enough custom will bide wi' me, Mr. Roy, I'm thinkin', to serve my time,' he said. 'Young blood working upon my own pattern, but keeping foot wi' the times, might have kept the old business well thegither, but it wasn't to be. It's strange that out o' four sons there's not one o' the lot I'd care to see carrying on this business after me.''I've long had a notion,' answered Mr. Roy, 'that ye made too much money to be happy for yourself or well for your family.''I'm happy enough,' retorted Mr. McCullagh; 'and as for my money, I made it by pinching myself, which is more nor ever a child I had will do.''That's just what I say; they know ye've lived before them.''It would make small odds to Robert if I'd never lived,' observed Mr. McCullagh. 'He wants nothing from me. The way Pousnetts' is flourishing is, I am given to understand, just beyond belief.''I met Mr. Robert the other day,' hazarded the clerk.'Ay, indeed.''He stopped me, and was most affable; asked particularly after your health.''Much obliged to him, I'm sure.''He's looking well; the company agrees with him better apparently nor ever the partnership did. He's got his old colour back and his jaunty ways again, that, indeed I used to be sorry to see were gone. They're moving from Islington, he tells me, to Brunswick-square.''I wonder that's grand enough,' sneered Mr. McCullagh. 'If he'd said he was flitting to Grosvenor or Cawvendish-square, now, that would have been nearer the mark.''We might live to see him in one or the other yet,' ventured Mr. Roy, on whom Robert's great prosperity and Robert's extraordinary politeness had made a deep impression.'We might live to see him in Buckingham Palace, for the matter o' that,' replied Mr. McCullagh.If he had but realised the fact, the Scotch merchant would have known he was deadly jealous of the 'uplift' his son had got in the world. That notwithstanding he had, after a fashion, excommunicated his 'double-faced first-born,' Robert should go on and prosper seemed to him some sort of a mistake on the part of Providence. It was the more crazing because Mr. McCullagh felt he had been hasty in ordering husband and wife off his premises. There was an expression in Robert's eyes as he looked in his father's face which 'minded' that father of something wistful and pitiful he had seen in his wife's expression when she lay dying.He could not forget the look; it haunted him; it was the appeal of a weak character to a strong, of a feeble nature to a harsh stern judge. He had not patience to think of Janey.

'Her well got-up' glance of innocence and indignation maddened him to remember. 'As if it was my fault,' he added, to strengthen his resolution, 'that Robert lied to me!'An exchange of letters had taken place between father and son, in which the latter remarked he had not told a falsehood; he had merely suppressed a truth which concerned himself only. In reply Mr. McCullagh took highly moral ground, asserting a prevarication was worse than a lie, because it was a 'coward thing;' and that the matter concerned all Robert's friends, who had made fools of themselves through being led to believe Mr. Pousnett had taken into partnership a man without sixpence, and whose brains 'couldn't even by the most partial be deemed an equivalent for the want of capital.'When Mr. McCullagh laid himself out to be disagreeable, it is but simple justice to say he succeeded in his endeavour; and so many nasty remarks did he contrive to squeeze into a not very lengthy epistle that Robert, tearing the paper into shreds, angrily declared he would never write nor speak to his father again.But Robert's was not the nature to bear malice long, and even had it been, the peacemaker Janey must ultimately have brought better feeling into the question. After the birth of their first child, a girl, both mother and father, moved by some curious sympathy, wrote to Mr. McCullagh, but without mentioning to each other what they had done.Janey simply sent a few lines, saying she had a little daughter, and that, now she was a mother, it grieved her more than ever to feel Robert was separated from his father. It was a sweet tender note, and touched Mr. McCullagh more than he cared to confess. Most unhappily on the top of it came Robert's epistle, which, causing Mr. McCullagh to consider 'how keen they were to make it up with him,' hardened his heart to a greater degree than ever. After trusting his father would come to the christening, and let 'bygones be bygones,' Robert said, 'We think of naming our child Annie, if you have no objection.''Call your child what you like,' answered plain auld Rab; 'it's no affair of mine. It is very good, I am sure, of you to invite me to the christening, but I must decline being one of the party;' while to Janey he wrote not a single word, good, bad, or indifferent; and Robert, too much mortified by the slap in the face he had received to mention the correspondence to his wife, maintained an utter silence on the subject.Pousnett & Co. (Limited) had proved, as the young man considered, a matter of little less than temporal salvation to him. For his portion of the spoil he received such a pocketful of shares as enabled him, with the help of Mr. Snow's skilful manipulation, to pay that gentleman off ere the company was eighteen months old.'Now or never,' thought the genial Snow; and it is unnecessary to say he decided on the first alternative. If it be true, as is cynically asserted, 'that an undertaker should get his bill settled while the mourners' eyes are still wet,' it is surely equally wise to have any matter depending upon Limited Liability put on a proper footing while the concern is in the full swing of its first success.'You had better get rid of me,' suggested Mr. Snow, with a quiet smile. 'You will feel far happier when you are relieved from this millstone of debt.'As there chanced to be nothing Robert more ardently desired than to be out of Mr. Snow's books, the little affair was so judiciously managed that one happy night he was able to tell his wife,'I have paid off the last instalment of that seven thousand pounds.''Then you are quite clear, Robert?''Yes, quite. I don't owe any man a shilling.'Under the circumstances it was perhaps the most natural thing in the world for a person so situated at once to place himself in a position where he would have the chance of owing many men shillings. He had stinted and saved to pay Mr. Snow; he had discerned no chance of 'enjoying life,' as the phrase goes; he had felt vexed at being obliged to 'doom Janey to poverty;' and then all in a moment relief came. He saw his way to enjoying life, and 'allowing Janey to take her proper place in society.' It was like a transformation scene--so like, Robert, as he walked about the City streets a rich and prosperous man, could scarcely believe the fortune which had come to him as real: he almost imagined he should wake some morning and find it had been all a dream.The way Mr. Snow managed to get a sufficient number of the shares in Pousnett & Co. (Limited) off his hands to recoup himself, and yet draw no attention to the transaction, would have seemed extraordinarily clever if other shares in the same company had not been changing owners in a like stealthy and secret manner. There never were any shares going about beg-

ging. Generally it was supposed shares in Pousnetts' could not be had for love or money. Nevertheless, here and there a few were to be picked up at a long price under extraordinary circumstances. Some one was going abroad, or died, or was bankrupt, or went mad, and then the word went round that if any one desired to avail himself of such a chance, why, there it was, and he ought to take advantage of it.At that early period of its life, Limited Liability was considered an innocent sort of baby, calculated to give pleasure to many persons, and incapable of inflicting injury on man, woman, or child. That it should ever grow up into the hardened rascal we have seen figuring before magistrates, judges, and vice-chancellors, lying, scheming, thieving, cheating, robbing the widow and orphan, picking the pockets of governesses and clergymen, none, save a very, very few, had foresight enough to conceive--indeed, it may be doubted whether any one could have imagined Limited Liability capable of producing the widespread misery, wickedness, and swindling it has done. For the last five-and-twenty years, it would seem truly as though every law, no matter how apparently beneficent in its intentions, had been passed solely in the interests of cheats and schemers and adventurers. Somehow the poor sheep is always shorn; somehow it is always the person that ought not to have the fleece who gets it.Pousnetts' was the very first private business which formed itself into a company under the new Act, and the result proved abundantly the wisdom of the senior partner in so soon taking that gullible bull, the public, by its horns.As has been said, the shares increased immensely in value, the business throve and prospered, great men added their names to the direction. Each dividend meeting proved better than the last. Always a great and notable house, Pousnett grew greater and more notable still.  Bankers, merchants, mayors, aldermen, citizens, and country gentlemen, all knelt down and did homage to Pousnetts'; there were times when, in the secret recesses of his heart, Mr. McCullagh, wise and prudent and cautious as he was, almost wished 'he had not been just so ready to say no about that matter of joining the Board.'Mr. Pousnett had wanted him once, though he did not want him now, and if he only could have reconciled it to his conscience to become one of the new fraternity, he might have made his appearance in the character of director in excellent company!He had not even so much to do with Pousnetts' (Limited) as might have been the case. That unlucky quarrel with Robert, which need never have taken place if the news had come upon him in a different fashion, or if Robert would have eaten a piece of humble-pie, and not 'threeped' upon his father that Janey knew nothing whatever about his business or money matters, or the details of the partnership, or Mr. Snow's loan, must prevent him for ever from taking the smallest pride out of the great house his son was connected with.Of course he never could 'make up' matters with Robert again. If he did it would look as if the riches and the grandeur of Pousnetts' had wrought a change in his opinions. 'Everybody was getting rich and grand,' thought poor Mr. McCullagh, who, having till quite lately been the greatest and wealthiest luminary his narrow circle of acquaintances boasted, could not reconcile himself in a minute to the fact that, while he was plodding along the old track, other quite new persons were shooting on ahead.'Business ways were all turned upside down; everybody now wanted to be master, servants were never content till they could call themselves principals, and principals had no other aim or object in view than to merge their identity in limited companies.'It was hard on a man who had always regarded Fortune as a height to be scaled very cautiously to see men rush at the citadel and carry it by storm. He had, in the course of years, carefully and painfully sowed, and reaped, and garnered his store, and now he saw harvests apparently larger planted and gathered, so to speak, within a day.There was Snow, for example: he had nothing to say against Mr. Snow, who, he daresay, was, for a man of his trade, honest enough; but he, Mr. McCullagh, could remember a time, and that not so long agone, when a common money-lender, a man who professedly advanced cash on usury, could not have leapt all in a minute from a couple of petty offices in Bush-lane to great premises in King William-street, where he had at least a dozen young men clerks, and shining mahogany counters, and brass rails you could see your face in, and desks of the very best, and a couple of waiting-rooms newly-carpeted and handsomely fitted up, and a grand private office for himself; where when he wanted anything he struck a bell, just as in the old Eastern tales great folks clapped their hands and a

slave appeared. And then to see the way even big bankers got on with him was 'something beyond Mr. McCullagh.''I don't know what we are coming to, Mr. Roy,' he often observed sadly; and with a considerable amount of truth Mr. Roy answered that neither did he.And still Pousnetts' Company prospered, and Mr. Snow in his new capacity did a business which filled many a man besides Mr. McCullagh with wonder and envy. Pousnetts' triumph was, after all, not extraordinary; but it did seem wonderful that Snow should carry everything before him as he did. How were outsiders to understand the length of time that gentleman had been silently cutting for himself the steps by which he meant to climb? He could have told them of weeks, months, years, during which he had been pushing forward to his present goal. He had watched the signs of the times, and prophesied to himself exactly how money was to be made out of the turn commercial affairs were taking. He had been working up one connection and working out of another; he had been feeling the pulse of bankers till he understood pretty well the temper of those City potentates; he had been making friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; running, what Mr. Alty considered, risks, yet coming out in the long-run victorious; giving a helping hand up difficult ladders, and waiting patiently for the day to come when he could demand his recompense with a certainty almost of getting it.Altogether, in Mr. McCullagh's opinion, things within the domain of the Dragon and the Grasshopper were being turned upside down. If he did not say they were going to the deuce, it was only because people seemed to be making enormous sums of money with very little trouble; and though it was a state of commercial society which did not recommend itself to the mind of the cautious Scotchman, still he did not feel 'just prepared to say' that the rapidity with which a man who had his wits about him could make a fortune was an unmixed evil. That depended, he considered, upon the care the man with his wits about him took of the fortune after he had made it. Upon the whole, Mr. McCullagh felt inclined to fear it would be lightly come, lightly gone; and, perhaps, with that fear them mixed a certain feeling of Christian satisfaction at the thought that when a good many tremendous profits were scattered to the four winds of heaven, the store 'laid past' by the wise merchant of Basinghall-street would be returning as good interest as it had ever done.Nevertheless, spite of the money he knew was so well invested, nothing short of a revolution could reduce him to beggary. Mr. McCullagh felt that in many respects life had of late gone very 'contrairy' with him.There was Janet, for instance--Janet Nicol, whom he had 'fed and lodged for years beyond count,' and who was, as one might say, mistress of his house; for 'I am sure I never interfered with her,' observed Mr. McCullagh--there was Janet, who had been privileged to look after cheeseparings and save the candle-ends, and economise the coals and see nothing was wasted; whose position in Basinghall-street could not be considered other than that of 'just the lady;' who was free to go and free to come; who could have her own visitors, and who had them; who could go out to tea, or dinner, or supper, whenever she pleased, and never a wry word spoken; who engaged the servants, and discharged each unsatisfactory lass at her own good-will; who, as long as she kept within certain bounds, was never asked to account for her 'spendings;' whose bed had been one of roses; whose waking moments ought to have proved, in the opinion of her relations, one long delight--there was Janet going to leave him; Janet able to say, without a tear on her cheek or break in her voice, it was time they parted company.'What's put that notion in your head?' asked Mr. McCullagh, when the lady mooted this idea.Miss Nicol went on with her needlework, and did not immediately reply.'If there's any secret in the matter, I don't want to intrude,' said her kinsman, who really was devoured by curiosity.'It's not exactly a secret,' replied Miss Nicol, evidently anxious to be pressed to an explanation.'Then ye'd best tell me your reason--that is, if ye've got one.''The long and the short of it is,' began Miss Nicol; and then she paused, and deliberately threaded her needle--'I've made up my mind to get married.''Weel,' answered Mr. McCullagh, who was taken completely aback, but who felt he would have died rather than evince his astonishment, 'better late nor never, ye know, Janet.''That's just what I think myself,' agreed the lady, calmly indifferent to anything in the remark which may have struck her as uncomplimentary.'And ye'll have looked out a good man for yourself, I'll

warrant,' suggested Mr. McCullagh, by way of gently leading up to further explanation.'A good enough man has looked out me,' amended Miss Nicol.'That's the way I should have worded my remark,' said her kinsman deprecatingly. 'As ye'll have made it up between yourselves, I suppose there's no offence in asking his name.''No offence at all. I am very sure, Mr. McCullagh, it's not through any goodwill of mine I want to leave ye.''And I can honestly say it is not through any goodwill of mine ye are going to leave me.''I'd far and away rather stay with ye.''Then why don't ye?''I'll stay if ye ask me.''O, if that's all, I'll ask ye fast enough,' Mr. McCullagh began, when, a look in Miss Nicol's face warning him he had got on ticklish ground, he leapt the morass, and added hurriedly--'that is, I would ask ye to stop on as ye are, if I did not mind me of what I said just now about it being better for ye to get married late nor never; so if ye've found somebody wants ye and not your money, it would be foolish and wrong of me to say a word to stop ye taking him.'That was about the last chance she would ever have, and Miss Nicol recognised the urgency of her position. She was not a forward woman, or the same roof would not have covered her and Mr. McCullagh for so many years; but yet at that supreme moment she felt if she nothing ventured, she would nothing get. When it came to actual reality, or the 'bit,' as she mentally expressed it, 'he could never part her--never.''Don't ye think yourself,' she commenced diplomatically, at the same time tracing an invisible pattern on the table--cover with the point of her needle, ' that people are happier married than single?''It all depends, Janet,' he answered; 'and I really could not take it upon myself to advise ye for or against.'But if ye had a wife, wouldn't ye be more comfortable and content?''I had a wife once, if ye mind,' he replied, using the last word in the sense of remember.'Ay, but I don't mean that! If ye had a suitable wife now, near your own age, and of your own way of thinking.''It's not me that is going to be married; and there is no good, therefore, in concedering the question, so far as I am

concerned,' observed Mr. McCullagh, who was now trebly on his guard. 'Ye haven't told me yet the name of the lucky man ye've chosen.''Before I do that I'd fain know if you're no like ever to think of taking a second wife yourself. One suitable, as I said before, and who wouldn't come to ye empty-handed either;' and Miss Nicol blushed, actually blushed, and the busy needle traced another invisible pattern more rapidly than before.Clearly there was no evading the question, and Mr. McCullagh perceiving this grappled it like a man.'I'll be plain wi' ye, Janet,' he said, 'and I'll try no to vex ye if I can help it. I've aye seen ye'd a fancy for me.' Had any one been there to observe Mr. McCullagh as he made this confession--his sheepish look of gratified vanity, his firm resolution not to be caught napping, the twinkle in his small keen eyes, the half smile playing over his sharp shrewd face, the alert uprightness of his mean figure, the look of delight in himself and pity for a woman whose devotion he could never reward--the whole scene would have proved too grotesque for risible nerves even under the strictest control, and an outbreak of laughter must have broken up the proceedings.As, however, Janet and plain auld Rab had the field all to themselves, he continued gravely, 'And I can truthfully say I'm greatly beholden to ye for it. But I've no thought of that sort at all. If it had ever been in my mind I'd have told ye so, long and long ago. Your money can make no difference to me; for your own sake I'm glad ye have it, and hope ye won't throw it and yourself away on anybody maybe not just worthy; but I'm no for taking a wife, and if I stay in the notion I'm in at present I never shall be. So now that we understand one another, tell me who it is wants ye.''I'm sure I'd never have thought of him, if--' began Miss Nicol, and then she stopped,bashfully deferring the evil moment.'If ye could have gotten me,' finished Mr. McCullagh, feeling for the moment his own manifold attractions were to be regretted, seeing the 'heart-break' they had caused. 'Weel, Janet, ye're no the first as has picked out the one man it was no sort of good for any woman to set her cap at, from among the lave; and it's no use, as ye're aware, crying over spilt milk, or, what's much the same, milk ye can't get. As ye think ye'll be best married ye've done a wise thing to look about ye. Who is it ye've made up your mind to go to church with?''My cousin, John Nicol.''Ay, ay,' said Mr. McCullagh, and volumes seemed contained in the twice-repeated monosyllable.'He's never to say lost a sneaking fondness for me,' pursued Miss Nicol.'That's all right,' answered her relation, feeling the remark committed him to nothing.'And as other folks think so little of me, I ought to be more obliged to him.''No doubt, no doubt.''I know ye never liked him, Mr. McCullagh.''What would ail me liking him?''Ye've spoke about his temper.''Have I? It's possible; but it's not I who'll have to put up with it.''And I don't deny,' went on Miss Nicol, who, as she could not rush at Mr. McCullagh and tear out a handful of his sandy hair, meant to vent a portion of her disappointment in some of those 'side wipes' in the administration of which she was an adept, 'he is a thought "near;" but I've had to be careful enough here, careful enough, the Lord knows, with plenty and to spare in your pocket for a man who never said "thank ye;" and it'll come second nature to me to save for myself and my husband.''There's a deal of sense in ye, Janet, when ye express it.''I'm glad ye think so. What I said to myself was, "What's the use of saving and pinching to add pounds to thousands I'll never have share of?" All the years I've lived in this house ye never gave me a present, but that French cashmere dress when your wife died.''Ye needn't stand for presents now,' observed Mr. McCullagh, who felt the conversation was taking a turn he did not like at all. 'John'11 be emptying the shops for ye.''He'll be doing no such thing,' answered' Miss Nicol. 'What I want I'll have money to buy for myself, and he knows it; but I'll be in my own house and over my own servants, and studying my own interests, and saving in one thing to pay for another; that's just how the matter stands;' and the irritated Janet recommenced her sewing with such vehemence that she instantly snapped the needle in two.'Ye've done it now,' said Mr. McCullagh dryly; but whether his utterance referred to the accident or the happy state of existence indicated, he did not explain, and Miss Nicol did not inquire.'I'd advise ye,' he went on, as she sought in her workbox for another needle, 'to have your money settled snug and fast on yourself. Whatever way things turn ye'll no repent that being made sure. It would be a sore pity for ye to go and do the day's work Effie got through when she married young Hunt.''If ye can say an ill word against Effie, ye'll not keep silent, I'm aware.''I'm not saying anything against Effie. I suppose ye'll not deny he has got the whole of her money in his own hand.''I know nothing about it,' snapped Miss Nicol viciously.'Weel, weel, if you don't, I do,' replied Mr. McCullagh, with which successful utterance he retired from the discussion.What he stated was perfectly true. Deep as she was, Effie had met with some one deeper. When the news of her good fortune came, her first intention most undoubtedly was to throw over Mr. Hunt. Effie Nicol with three thousand pounds was a very different person, even in her own eyes, from Effie without a shilling. She could do better, she felt, than marry a clerk, and a clerk too out of a situation.Mrs. Olfradine, who knew a great deal more about human nature than she had ever done about music, and who understood Effie as women do not often understand each other, soon saw how the land lay, and without loss of time gave her nephew a hint to discontinue his visits.Now it is one matter to determine to turn a cold shoulder towards an impecunious lover, and another to be totally deserted by the lover himself. Effie did not know what to make of this defection--for she and Hunt were actually engaged. Days passed, a month elapsed, and still no sign or word from the young man.'Is William ill?' she asked Mrs. Olfradine at last.'Not that I have heard of,' was the reply. 'What made you think he was ill?''He has not been near us for so long.''You would not have him coming about the house now, would you?''Why not?''And have people saying he was after your money.''He was not after my money when I hadn't any.''Yes, but you have got it now, and nobody would remember you were as poor as himself when he first asked you.''I think he might have waited till I told him to stay away.''I don't think that would have shown much spirit,' ob-

served Mrs. Olfradine; 'and another thing is, he's no doubt busy, for he has got a place where I am told the hours are very long.''What place has he got?' Effie inquired; but Mrs. Olfradine did not, or would not, know. The extent of her information appeared to be the young man was idle no longer. 'And a good thing too,' she added; 'poor people can't afford to lie out of situations.'It was not long ere Effie heard quite casually from an acquaintance of the Hunts that William had got into a right good berth at last. Two hundred and fifty pounds a year was the salary mentioned; his abilities, unappreciated at Mr. Snow's, having met from his new employers with proper recognition. Effie said nothing, but she thought a great deal, and when, at the end of another month, she met Mr. Hunt, she greeted him with a graciousness to which he responded by a sad humility, which in mournful depression might have matched Effie's own manner in the old days at Basinghall-street.It was not easy for Effie to be playful, but she tried her best to assume that character, as she observed, in the words of a homely if not elegant proverb, 'that a sight of him was good for sore eyes.' 'Ye have made yourself quite a stranger,' she added.'Only since strange things have happened,' he answered. 'I did not care to presume on old acquaintance, and put you to the trouble of saying you would rather have my room than my company.'On both sides the conversation was long and diplomatic, and when at last they separated Mr. Hunt contrived to leave on Effie's mind the impression that he wished to terminate the engagement.'He's doing first-rate, I'm sure,' considered Effie, an idea the young man's reticence confirmed rather than dispelled. He would not tell her the name of the firm he was with, or what he was doing, or how he got his situation.'I lost one through you, Effie,' he said, 'or rather through trying to please you, and I won't jeopardise my means of living a second time.''It would be a pity and you getting such a salary,' answered Effie. 'Two hundred and fifty pounds a year--no less. Times have changed.''Whoever told you I was getting that amount didn't stand nice about speaking the truth,' he observed.'Well, maybe your pay isn't far short,' she insinuated.'Whatever it is can't matter to you now,' said Mr. William Hunt. 'With your fortune, what's two or even three hundred a year?''Ye had only fifty-five when I first knew ye.''And you had nothing at all,' he retorted.It was a curious way of wooing, but apparently Mr. Hunt understood how to please his mistress, for one morning, without 'by your leave or with your leave,' without bridesmaids, best man, carriages, settlements, friends, favours, or bouquets, Effie Nicol and William Hunt were made one at the parish church of St. John's, Deptford.Nobody except the bride and bridegroom were supposed to know anything about the matter. Immediately after the ceremony Mr. and Mrs. Hunt took possession of lodgings previously prepared for their reception, where they lived for a short time economically, as befitted persons of their condition just starting in the race matrimonial.It was not long, however, before Effie, aspiring to a 'house of her own,' broached the question to her lord and master, who informed her, with an utter absence of circumlocution, that they could not afford such nonsense.'Not afford it ' repeated Effie, wondering; 'with my money, and you getting so big a salary?'Mr. Hunt laughed bitterly.'I am getting no salary, Effie,' he said; ' and it seems to me I never shall in this country.''Have ye lost your situation?' she asked.'Yes, that I have.''And not got another?''No; I've enemies here will prevent me ever getting on; old Snow, and that precious Alfred Mostin, and a whole lot of them.'Effie did not answer; the news seemed to her too awful for comment She had given herself and her money freely; but when she did so she believed she was getting a substantial enough quid for her quo. The idea of her husband losing situation after situation was a notion which had never occurred to her. At Mr. McCullagh's the same faces greeted customers year in, year out. Except to better themselves his clerks did not leave him, and very seldom indeed even to do that She did not know what to make of her position. She had to take refuge in her usual resort, and without confidant or comforter think over her husband's emphatic words in silence.CHAPTER XXXIV.
BY THE SAD SEA WAVES.MR. ALFRED MOSTIN sat alone in his old office in North-street. He had not 'worked himself out of' the Robert McCullagh & Co. house in the Minories; quite the contrary. Messrs. Robert McCullagh & Co. were persuaded he was the sharpest and most energetic fellow in England; he took orders from under the very nose of his relation in Basinghall-street; he literally paved his morning rounds with falsehoods; he could outlie even Mr. David McCullagh, and burrow quicker after information than Archie. If the trade had then been capable of the amount of extension that has since been compassed; had tinned meats from Australia, fruits from America, salmon from Newfoundland, milk from Norway, soups from Heaven knows where, tongues, rabbits, hares, pheasants, ox-cheek, flesh, fowl, red herrings, lobsters, and crabs, formed at that period, as they do now, an integral part of the 'Scotch' trade, it is difficult to conjecture to what heights Mr. Alfred Mostin might not have carried his employers' business; but such things were at that time only in their infancy, if actually born. Even Mr. McCullagh, who was in many things in advance of his age, would have scoffed the idea to scorn of offering a two-pound tin of mutton across the counter retail for a shilling, at which price elegant economists can now regale themselves upon that article; the battle of tinned meat cooked to rags had still to be fought and won; in a word, the business first started in Basinghall-street, and which for so many prosperous years Mr. McCullagh had all to himself, was still circumscribed. It and the millions were not yet en rapport. It seemed incapable of supporting so many firms, more especially as in preserves, jellies, sauces, and confectionery many powerful opponents had arisen in England.'Hang the trade!' thought Alfred Mostin; 'there must be some way of pushing it if one only could come at it.' As yet he had not been able to 'come at it,' and the only idea he found himself in a position to advance for the benefit of his

principals was that if they allowed him to establish a 'branch' in North-street, Finsbury, and supply him with goods, something might eventually be done in the way of replenishing an exchequer which had a nasty habit of running short.Accordingly the board which had once borne the announcement of the Schlaxenbergen Seidlitz Company and the Anglo-Irish Lace Association now informed all whom it might concern that ' McGregor, Chalmers, & Holderstein' occupied the second floor. McGregor and Chalmers were supposed to be Glasgow manufacturers, Holderstein a foreign capitalist. Mr. Alfred Mostin was known to be manager of this firm, and to have authority to indorse cheques, draw and accept bills, do everything, in fact, except, as it seemed, pay money. For that simple operation he always required to consult somebody in the background, who appeared to have an insuperable objection to parting with even ten shillings. The way settlements with creditors were staved off was simply marvellous, and the manner in which they bore the treatment they received more extraordinary still.Mr. Mostin, then, was sitting quite alone in his front office when a gentle tap sounded at the door.'Come in, whoever you are!' roared Mr. Mostin, who was balancing his person on one leg of the office stool, and beating time to some wordless tune with the office ruler.As the door slowly opened, and a head timidly appeared looking into the room, Alf Mostin brought his stool down on its four legs at once, and, involuntarily hitting the desk a tremendous bang with the ruler, exclaimed,'Effie, by all that's wonderful!''Ay, it's me,' said Effie meekly.'My dear soul, you do me too much honour,' observed Mr. Mostin. ' Why, in all the time we have known each other, you have never come to see me before.''No,' she agreed, glancing nervously around her.'Perhaps you would rather come into the other room,' suggested Mr. Mostin, who read signs of feminine distress both in her look and manner. 'Nobody will disturb us there. What's wrong?' he added, as he ushered her into the apartment where Mr. Robert McCullagh found his relation frying bacon on the morning when he first heard Mr. Snow's name.'O, there's not much wrong,' answered Effie.He inducted her into the arm-chair, and waited. He knew Effie of old, and was not aware of the causes which had con-

spired to render her less self-contained. To get anything out of her had ever been a work of time; and Mr. Mostin having at that moment abundant leisure decided to let it wait on her inclination. She did not try his patience long, however. Finding he did not ask any further question, but stood silently contemplating her in his favourite attitude, she herself broke cover.'I've just been round to your friend Mr. Snow,' she began.'To beg Hunt on again?' conjectured Mr. Mostin.'Nothing of the sort; though Mr. Snow might do worse nor take him.''He might,' agreed Alf; and then apparently fell into a reverie as to the nature of the 'worse' suggested.'It's no use your speaking against him, ye know,' said Effie viciously, 'because everybody is aware he can work, and work well.''I have said nothing against Mr. Hunt,' remarked the North-street hermit mildly. 'I have no doubt he can work, and work well, if he chooses.''And of course he would choose if he had half a chance.'For a moment Mr. Mostin looked puzzled, then he said,'My dear Miss Effie, it will save us both a great deal of trouble if you tell me the errand which brought you here. Now what is it--in a sentence?' added Alf, seeing that his visitor once again hesitated.'In a sentence, then,' repeated Effie,' I want to ask ye not to hinder William making his bread. He has got a right to make it as well as you.''I have not hindered him making bread, or anything else.''O, yes, ye have,' with a little scornful curl of her thin lips.'In the name of all that's marvellous, how?''By, when he does light on a good chance, going to his employers and getting them to turn him adrift.'Mr. Mostin looked at his visitor in amazement; then solemnly raising his eyes to the ceiling, he said, addressing an invisible audience,'Am I mad, or is this lady? When have I gone to this young man's employers since he left Snow? When had he any employer, since Snow turned him out of his office, to turn him adrift? At what period did he "light on"--I quote Miss Effie--a good chance since he and the dear Snow parted company?''It is of no use trying to fool me,' observed Effie impatiently.'And, my dear creature, although you have dropped into three thousand pounds, it is of no use trying to fool me. Hunt has never had a situation, or the chance of a situation, since he was (figuratively) kicked out of Bush-lane. He has had nothing to do, except for about a month, when he took the place of a friend who was ill, in an estate agent's at the West-end. Snow won't give him a character, and the friends he thought he was making, by babbling about Snow's concerns, have thrown him over too. By this time Mr. Hunt may perhaps have found that honesty is the best policy,' added Mr. Mostin, with the virtuous serenity of a man who has never been guilty of a doubtful action in the whole course of his life.'Are ye tellin' me the truth? asked Effie, for once surprised out of her self-possession.'Why on earth should I tell you a lie?' asked Mr. Mostin. 'Are you fond of the chap still, Effie?' he added, with a little softening of voice and manner. 'I am very sorry; for, upon my soul, he is not worth being fond of.''Don't say that,' entreated Effie, with a ring of trouble in her voice, which was not counterfeited.'Why shouldn't I? asked Alfred Mostin. 'To use your own country expression, he's a "fause loon," and you and your money are well out of his clutches.''Ay, but we're man and wife,' said Effie solemnly.'You are what?' cried Alf, genuinely amazed.'We're married;' and Effie fell a-sobbing.Mr. Mostin took a short turn or two up and down the room.'Well,' he said at last, 'to quote Mr. McCullagh, " this dingsa'." How came you to be so left to yourself, Effie?'She didn't know, she told him; she couldn't make it rightly off; she believed he was earning a mint of money, that he had a good situation, and was in the receipt of good wages. She did not know what to do or to think--on the face of the wide earth, she did not know what to do.'I never liked ye, Mr. Mostin,' she said, with simple candour; 'but ye might have had a sister placed as I am. Advise me as ye'd advise her.''Faith, I will,' answered Alf Mostin heartily. 'To reciprocate your compliment, Effie, I never liked you--as, indeed, I never liked one of the Basinghall-street lot; but if you think my best advice worth the having, you are more than welcome to all I have to give. Make the best of it, my dear. The whole

bench of bishops, and all the archbishops into the bargain, can't unmarry you. I suppose you were fond of Hunt once,' he broke off abruptly to say.'O, I liked him well enough,' answered Effie irritably.'Then you had best try and get fond of him again. He must have liked you, Effie--though I honestly tell you I can't imagine why--or he wouldn't have asked you to marry him when you had not sixpence, or told you what lost him his place, when a guinea a week must have seemed a fortune to him. Ah! Delilah, Delilah!' said Mr. Mostin solemnly, shaking his head at limp and colourless Effie, till the absurdity of the comparison caused him to break into a peal of laughter.'Ye're merry, Mr. Ailfred,' said Mrs. Hunt, tears of anger dimming her pale-blue eyes.'That am I not,' he answered. 'I suppose you can't understand a man laughing when he feels as little merry as ever he did in his life. It was only a contrast struck my fancy. However, to return. I repeat in different words what I said just now. Make the best of Hunt and your marriage. He's no simpleton. Though he has got your money, I think you may trust him with it. Don't call him names, as is the habit of your charming sex. Don't let your dearest friend know he took you in. Make the best of it, Effie; your secret is safe enough with me. Only, if I were you, I'd never tell him you confided in a man he has such admirable reason to hate as he has your humble servant.''What have ye done to him?' asked Effie in wonder.'Well, my child (I mention this just as a warning, you know), when, on a certain night, Miss Nicol put bad blood, between a father and son who were getting to understand each other a little, it seemed to me necessary to trace the matter to its fountain-head. Tracking the stream to its source gave me a lot of trouble--a deuce of a lot, if you will excuse forcible language. But I did track it to your husband; and it was I who told Snow of his doings, and consequently I who got him dismissed from his light and easy post of spy.''And it is you, I suppose, who are tracking him now, and preventing him stopping in any situation?''Fair and softly, my dear Effie. I like your ebullition of temper, as it proves that already you feel your interests and those of your husband identical; but it is quite uncalled for, I assure you. I have my faults; but to go out of my way to injure a fellow is not one of them. Your husband, as I told

you before, has never had any situation to stop in since Snow's office, otherwise he might have stayed in it till Doomsday for me.''Do ye mean to say that he can't get a situation?''There is nothing impossible. If any previous employer likes to recommend him, or he is able to make a quite new start, he may still do well even in London; but Snow couldn't give him a character. Duplicate keys, and blabbing an employer's business, are offences no business man can condone. Supposing you found a housemaid out at the same game, eh, Effie?''I wonder if my uncle could find him a place?' said Effie, ignoring the parallel Mr. Mostin had suggested.'If he could he wouldn't, I am very certain.''Why not?''Because I told him who it was had informed you, and consequently Miss Nicol, about the sum of money Robert paid to be admitted into Pousnetts'.''Well, it was true, at any rate,' hissed out Effie.'Quite true, Mrs. Hunt; but when you have lived as long as I--in fact, when you have lived another year or two-you will understand that upon the face of this earth there is, as a rule, nothing so objectionable as truth in the way people tell it. I have always noticed that truth, like a curse, comes home to roost. If I were you I would quite give up the practice of speaking it.'Provoked beyond endurance, Effie rose and folded her shawl around her.'Good-bye,' she remarked. 'Nobody can say ye preach what ye don't practise.''Good-bye, Effie,' he answered briskly; 'if you had followed my practice, you would not have stood in need of a sermon from me to-day.''What has been the text, please?' she asked scornfully.'It was divided into many heads,' he answered; ' but if you remember one, it will prove sufficient for the purpose: "Love your husband."'When she was gone--in the excess of his politeness he escorted her down the dark staircase, and saw her safely out of the door--Mr. Alfred Mostin returned to his stool, and wondered how a good many things would end. The extraordinary part of the business was, that he never wondered how he would end; his own probable future did not trouble him in the least.

To this present hour he is quite undecided whether he may not eventually drop into a fortune, or finish his days in the workhouse. The prescience of some persons as regards their fellows is scarcely less remarkable than their total blindness concerning themselves.No gift of prophecy, no power of calculating chances, could possibly have foreseen those changes in the McCullagh household which, by the middle of the year 1858, left Mr. McCullagh more lonely than he was before his marriage. In the ordinary sense of the word he had never known a happy home; but, at least, he could not consider it desolate till now, when he found he must face domestic existence with one old woman in the kitchen to provide such sunshine as was possible over an at best dreary house.'No, no, no, no,' said plain auld Rab to Mrs. Roy; 'no more of your lady housekeepers, thank ye, for me. We'll just have something homely if there is such an article left in the world; a woman likely to be thankful for an easy master and a quiet place.''Wouldn't it be cosy and couthie, James,' said Mrs. Roy to her husband, 'if he would take you into partnership and let us all live together? I could manage that he'd be comfortable, and not at the mercy of servants.'It seemed a pleasant speculation, but Mr. Roy shook his head. 'There's nothing further from his mind than anything of the sort,' he observed; and Mr. Roy was right.There are persons who can do that sort of thing-make mutual homes, take others under their roof, become members of a common family--but Mr. McCullagh was differently constituted. Though no one more enjoyed a 'sociable evening,' yet he liked to 'keep a good oak door' between himself and the outer world. There were those he could have 'taken up wi;' but 'as they did not seem for him,' all he could do was turn his attention to business with a keener interest than ever. Yet even on that dear accustomed ground Mr. McCullagh found things were not 'just as they had been.' True he was holding his own--that is to say his sales were little less than they had always been--but as a set-off his expenses were heavier. And, further, how could a man who had been used to 'sleep beside his trade' reconcile himself to the division between home and counting-house which he had rashly caused? The business once was company to him, and now he walk down to Crutched Friars to enjoy the society formerly but

across the hall. He could not satisfy himself either the change was good for Mr. Roy. As manager in the absence of the principal he began to 'take on him a bit,' and Mr. McCullagh was forced sometimes to 'say a word;' and then Mr. Roy seemed vexed, and remarked what he did was done for the best. David moreover delighted in telling his father of 'orders that had been lost' in Crutched Friars through no responsible person being in the way; and though Mr. McCullagh knew where Mr. Roy had been on such occasions, and felt pretty well satisfied no order worth having had ever been lost, still such warnings annoyed him greatly; and besides, he knew the arrangement was one which 'left it in the power of people' to say he was not' done by properly,' a reflection which vexed him greatly, as he had believed, and rightly, the service rendered for his fair wage was honest and true.The more Mr. McCullagh saw of the working of that warehouse, which he had opened 'for spite,' as he confessed to his own soul with remorse and bitterness, the less he believed in the prudence of the step. He said nothing on the subject, however, to any one, but took such measures as were calculated to bring back the bulk of the trade to Basinghall-street, dating all letters from that address, remaining there himself almost constantly, and ignoring so far as practicable the premises in Crutched Friars.Then he bided his time till he could get rid of those premises, and at a profit, to some firm in quite another line of trade, When that last feat was successfully accomplished, he put a dozen advertisements in the second column of the Times, and sent out circulars intimating that on and after a certain date the old-established and well-known business of Robert McCullagh would be carried on solely from Basinghall-street, where friends and customers were requested to call and orders should be addressed.'He's mad-clean mad,' observed Mr. David McCullagh, when his eye caught the advertisement; and he went straight off to Crutched Friars, thinking to secure the vacated premises. When he arrived he found a score of men at work-painting, hammering, whitewashing, knocking down partitions, and carrying in planks. All over the front were stretched great posters announcing that on the 1st of the next month, No.-- Crutched Friars would be opened by Messrs. Ephraim & Aaron, clothiers and outfitters, as an East-end branch of their great emporium in Holborn.Returning by way of Basinghall-street, and 'looking in as he passed,' David beheld his father in the old familiar corner; Mr. Roy seated at his former desk, as if he had never left it for a day; Alick appearing from the cellars, whither he had been despatched to ascertain the amount of biscuit available that afternoon for a 'big order;' and the warehouse so crowded with customers, Mr. McCullagh could only give him a nod, while speech of Mr. Roy except on business was not to be had.For a person who was 'mad' Mr. McCullagh had laid his plans with singular discretion. Even the second-born was fain to say to his brother that after all the 'old man' knew what he was about. 'He wouldn't let us have a ghost of a chance, ye see.'So far, then, Mr. McCullagh had no great cause for complaining of fortune. He was adding to that store laid by for those who should come after him. His investments were, as usual, paying good interest; he had a sufficiency of pecuniary ventures on hand to interest and occupy him. The woman who looked after his household gave little cause for complaint. If she was somewhat lavish in the use of coals, she cost him little or nothing for house-flannel, and other oilman's goods. She cooked his rasher of bacon in the morning, and his chop or steak for dinner. At the proper hour she had the water boiling for toddy; and if a friend 'dropped in' she would run out and get half a pound of salt beef, or a crab, or a lobster if cheap, and set forth the table with such delicacies in addition, as bread, cheese, oatcake, and a jug of ale from the nearest public.For a long time past beer had not been taken in the four and a half gallon measure the establishment once regaled itself upon. There was no one to consume so large a quantity. The housekeeper was allowed her shilling a week, and could buy ale if she liked, or let it alone; while as for the master, he preferred a 'drappie' of whisky-and-water cold with his dinner. To live after such a fashion it scarcely seemed worth while to have toiled and pinched and saved and added pound to pound; but chacun à son goÛt, and upon the whole there can be little doubt that as money is power, Mr. McCullagh's system was not a bad one.One thing, at all events, is certain: had he lived differently he could never have been so rich a man. Company is not merely costly in a pecuniary point, but of necessity it is wasteful as regards time. It is not often the man that makes who can afford to spend. As a rule one generation gathers and the next

scatters; the spendthrift succeeds the miser; those who have worked are followed by those who play.If there were one thing Mr. McCullagh found it harder to bear than another it was a fondness for society, which seemed more and more to develop in his sons. They appeared to find no difficulty in combining business and pleasure. When Kenneth and his wife came to London--and they came often--they were always 'on the gad,' while David and Archie looked upon the theatre as the natural place in which to spend their evening hours of freedom. From the Mostin blood he felt no doubt this evil proceeded; and yet the Bread-street-hill McCullaghs, who were no kin to that objectionable family, were wonderful people for parties and concerts, and all the rest of those entertainments invented for luring honest traders to perdition. To be sure, however, their mother was a fly-away madam, who had not worn her widow's weeds two years before she married some 'sprig of gentility.''Ay, it's from the women they get it,' thought poor McCullagh; 'the same as Robert's children will learn all manner of evil from their mother.'That was the bitterest drop in his cup. Robert whom he had bid leave his house; who was the 'softest' of all his children, and yet had done far the best; who was keeping company with grandees, and greatly thought of in the City; who had two pretty children, a boy and a girl; who could afford to hold out the olive-branch to his father and have it flung back in his face; who was so rich he wanted nothing from him; whose wife had not gone mad, but who instead made friends 'with folks who kept carriages and drove her about with them, and set her up more than ever, as though from the first she had not been enough of the fine lady.'This was extremely ungrateful and ungracious on the part of Mr. McCullagh, for Janey's soul, while driving in her friend's carriage, yearned after her father-in-law trudging along on foot. She had seen him one day when she was seated opposite Coutts's, and impulsively and involuntarily she uttered a little pleased 'O!' and stretched out her hand to greet him. All in vain; Mr. McCullagh shot swiftly past, eluding the touch of that pale-gray glove.There was another time, too, when he met her in Guildford-street with her little girl. It was the height of summer, and while 'wee Annie' was dressed all in white, the mother wore a lilac muslin (muslin was in fashion then), and a 'gauzy sort of

bonnet with flowers that looked like real, and a beautiful lace shawl; and she carried a parasol with fringe a foot deep.'Mr. McCullagh stepping smartly along the pavement presented a somewhat unfashionable figure, in an old brown coat, a black and yellow straw hat, a green barred neck-tie, stout shoes, white stockings, and gray trousers. He was the more easily recognised, however, and Janey stopped and accosted him.'Do speak to me, Mr. McCullagh,' she entreated; but her entreaty was in vain. He looked her straight in the face, as indeed it was impossible, as she stood, for him to help doing, and cut her dead.Annie's mother drew the child a little closer to her side, and went on her way with a sad heart.Mr. McCullagh, eschewing the main thoroughfares, walked back to the City, seeing nothing but the 'glint' of a lilac hearing nothing save a woman's voice pleading, 'Do speak to me.' 'It was out of the question,' he decided, the way his son's wife refused to believe he wanted nothing to do with her, nothing at all. 'Why can't she content herself with her grand friends? Why must she pester me in the street, and make me look like a fool to the folks going by?'Hurrying, hurrying on along Warner and Ray and Turnmill and Cowcroos streets with rapid feet that were acquainted with every devious inch of the City portion of the metropolis, Mr. McCullagh made his way across Smithfield, and was entering Long-lane, when some one calling out, 'Whither away, so fast?' he looked round, and saw he had passed Mr. Pousnett without recognition.'I thought you meant to cut me,' remarked that gentleman, with the genial smile of one who feels he has suggested an impossible pleasantry.Mr. McCullagh winced. If he did not intend to cut Pousnett, be knew on whom he had performed a similar operation. 'I was deep in thought,' he said, excusing himself, 'I never expected to meet you in Long-lane.''Why not?' asked Mr. Pousnett.'It's out of your beat entirely.''No place is out of my beat,' answered the great man affably, 'where money is to be made.''I believe ye,' replied Mr. McCullagh, quickly responding to a sentiment so entirely his own; 'I do, indeed.''And indeed you may,' said Mr. Pousnett, with the simplicity of truth.'Lovely weather, isn't it?' said Mr. Pousnett, after they had talked for a couple of minutes according to the fashion wherewith City men entertain each other--exchanged a word about politics, and made a few original observations concerning the state of the money-market. 'I am going to run down this afternoon to Norman's Bay to get a whiff of sea air. You ought to come with me, Mr. McCullagh; it would do you all the good in the world.''I don't mind if I do,' was Mr. McCullagh's unexpected answer.Nothing was farther from Mr. Pousnett's mind and wishes than the thought that his invitation would be accepted; but no one, not even the wife of his bosom, could have told, from his countenance, the surprise, not to say dismay, with which Mr. McCullagh's reply filled him.'That's right,' he exclaimed, in the heartiest manner possible. 'It's the very day for a dash out of town. Will you meet me at Waterloo a little before four? Or stay, better still, I will call round for you, and we can drive over together.''In for a penny, in for a pound!' No human being understood better than Mr. Pousnett the policy, if he thought well to be cordial at all, of being cordial exceedingly.'I wonder what there's about me,' considered Mr. McCullagh modestly, the while he wended his way homeward, 'that makes everybody so fain for my company? Beside a man like Pousnett, now, I'm not so much to look at, and I've never laid myself out to have high ways or grand talk, or tried to be seductive in my manners. I am, as I've always said I was, just plain auld Rab, with a something of sense in my head, and a pound or two laid by, and no flattering on my tongue or falsehood in my heart; and yet only to consider how I am run after! To make no mention of old friends, who are aye wanting to know when I'll come round and take a bite of dinner and have a glass of toddy--familiars as I ca' them-strangers, as one may say, seem greedy for my society. There's Mr. Pousnett, he could do no more for his brother than go about with him, travelling backwards and forwards. And then there's Janey--a weary Janey she is, too--can't content herself without me, though she has all the pomps and vanities of this world about her. Look, too, at Kenneth's wife, a daft sort o' body no doubt; but still she makes more of her father-in-law than of her own father. There's Snow, also, always dropping in and out, and "What's your opinion, Mr. McCullagh? I was pass-

ing, and couldn't resist coming in to have a word with you;" and his friend Alty is keener still for knowing me. And Janet would have liked well if I'd made her Mistress McCullagh No. 2; and it seems to me if I'd time I might go on with the list till to-morrow,' finished Mr. McCullagh, prudently ending his self-gratulations, when he found the tale of those who delighted in his conversation drawing to a conclusion.He had but leisure to write a few letters, and give various instructions to the faithful Roy--who told every one that afternoon the information did and did not concern, 'Mr. McCullagh was gone down to the shore with Mr. Pousnett'--to pack a few necessary articles, and exchange his 'every-day clothes for his Sunday garments,' when Mr. Pousnett came down the court, and, entering the counting-house, cried out cheerily,'I hope you are ready, Mr. McCullagh, for we have time to lose.''Not a visage' amongst those true and leal sons of Scotia changed or moved at sight of the great man who stood on the threshold, and yet, as Mr. McCullagh, with a faint streak of colour in his sallow cheeks, skipped nimbly down from his office-stool, dressed in his Sabbath-day clothes, he was conscious of a thrill of exultation which ran through the breasts of his retainers.The journey proved delightful. A lovely afternoon, a beautiful country, an express train, a most 'conversible' companion; what could a man like Mr. McCullagh desire more? Time sped as fast as the engine, the talk changed and varied as much as the aspect of the landscape. Hitherto Mr. McCullagh's longer travels had been performed third-class parliamentary, as third class was then, or else on board a steamboat slowly crawling up the east coast. Now he sat in a cushioned compartment of a mad express, that never drew rein till it got to Guildford, where it only stopped for a minute ere tearing off again through the tunnel and out again into the wild country lying beyond, as if a thousand demons were skurrying along the metals in pursuit.They had to leave the main line at last, and avail themselves "of a branch which landed passengers within about a mile of Norman's Bay; but when they arrived at their destination the sun still wanted two hours of setting, and the sea lay before them smooth and unruffled, reflecting a thousand exquisite tints from the summer sky, while white-winged vessels made their way slowly down the Channel, seeming to be carrying

English sunshine away with them on their sails as they receded from the familiar shore.'Eh, but it's beautiful,' cried Mr. McCullagh, who brought the keenest zest to the scene stretching before him. 'It's years since I beheld anything to compare to this. Why, it's worth the whole journey if a man went back by the next train.'Mr. Pousnett was not--so he explained to his companion as they travelled down--stopping at Norman Castle, which he had temporarily delivered over to that autocrat, the British workman.'I am having some decent rooms built,' he added, 'and the place made a little habitable. We will go over to-morrow and see how things are getting on; but for to-night, after we have had dinner, I vote we moon on the beach. You cannot imagine how I love walking up and down on the sea-shore.'Mr. McCullagh, however, intimated that he thought he could, adding it was an exercise to which he himself had a particular partiality.They dined, and then they sauntered out together, sitting for a long time upon some large stones that lay bedded in the shingle.Afterwards Mr. McCullagh declared he did not mind confessing 'the grasp o' mind of that man was something fearsome'--it minded him of one who is just 'no canny.''There is not a question,' said Mr. McCullagh, warming to his subject, Pousnett has not studied. You won't catch him tripping, I'll warrant. If he had spent the whole of his life shut close up in a study reading, instead of conducting a big business in the City, he could not be better acquainted with every subject on which ye like to touch. The mass of general information he has at his fingers' ends is inconceivable. Whatever he's talking about ye might think had been his one occupation in existence.'Seated beside the sea, which came rippling in with a sweet sad murmur, looking at the sun setting in a pomp of golden and purple glory, lingering in the tender summer twilight, and watching a still young moon struggling through a bank of clouds, and at last gazing wistfully down at the calm fair scene revealed by her light, Mr. Pousnett, leaving those general topics, concerning which he really knew very little, though able to converse upon them so well, dropped into graver talk, and discoursed concerning the vanity of all worldly possessions and worldly triumphs in a manner which astounded Mr. McCullagh beyond measure.Perhaps the man was really tired--he said he was; the hour, the place, the sound of the sea's mournful unrest as the waves fretted nearer and nearer to where they sat, the solemnity of night in that lonely bay, the mighty expanse of water darkling beyond, affected with a terrible melancholy the heart which for years had thought of nothing, cared for nothing, save temporal success--money he should one day be forced to leave behind him, friends by whom he would be forgotten ere his body was laid in the ground.Whatever the cause, one thing is certain. Solomon himself, when he was in his lowest spirits, and when remorse for all his foolish wickedness lay heavy on his conscience, could have said no more concerning vanity than did the man who was now managing director of the great business in which he had as senior partner achieved such success.Either Mr. McCullagh's state of mind and body may have been more healthy, or he had not yet arrived at that period when even the most fortunate man occasionally begins to ask himself, 'Why have I thus slaved and laboured?' 'To end did I rise up early and so late take rest?' but Mr. Pousnett's dissertation failed to awaken any answering echo in his breast. It only filled him with a strange wonder and a vague discontent. It was so unlike anything he ever expected to hear 'come out of Pousnett's mouth.''I am afraid ye don't feel yourself very well,' he said after some time, when the damp sea air, in addition to Mr.Pousnett's depreciation of money, 'even honestly come by,' began to strike a chill to his bones.'I have not been very well lately,' answered Mr. Pousnett.'Do ye think it's wise of ye to be sitting on a cold stone by the water?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'Well, perhaps it is not very wise,' answered Mr. Pousnett. 'Shall we go further, or return to the hotel?'Fond of Nature as he might be, Mr. McCullagh thought upon the whole a comfortable chair and a roof over his head and gaslights and a glass of toddy would be preferable to the shingle and the lap-lap-lap of the sea. Accordingly he intimated his belief that for townsfolk, who were 'not used to the salt-water,' it was 'not prudent to stay out of doors too long at a time.''Ye ought to take more care of yourself, Mr. Pousnett,' he added, noticing that gentleman shiver as they walked homeward along the beach.'I do take as much care of myself as I can,' answered Mr. Pousnett; and it seemed to his guest, when he remarked shortly after they reached the inn that he thought if Mr. McCullagh would excuse him he should like to go up to his room, he was only following good advice.'Never mind me,' observed the Scotchman, feeling that even without Mr. Pousnett enough remained to enable him to pass an hour or two very comfortably. 'I'll do well, I warrant ye. It's yourself, Mr. Pousnett, I'm thinking of,' he said; 'do not try to burn the candle at both ends.''Capital counsel,' returned Mr. Pousnett; 'I only wish I could follow it.''Hoots, man!' cried Mr. McCullagh, with homely friendliness, 'what's money wanting health?''What's health wanting money?' amended Mr. Pousnett, laughing.Next morning, in answer to his guest's anxious inquiries as to how he found himself, Mr. Pousnett relieved Mr. McCullagh's mind by stating he felt very much better.'I always do,' he added, 'when I can leave the office even for a short time.''Then why don't ye take a good spell right away?' asked Mr. McCullagh.'Because,' replied Mr. Pousnett, 'I have a notion, which may be very foolish, that the office can't do without me.''But there's your son, ye know,' suggested Mr. McCullagh.'And there is yours,' added Mr. Pousnett; 'and there are all the directors, and the manager and bookkeepers and clerks and messengers, and yet--I mention this to show the ridiculous fancies a man may take--I have a notion I am of more use than the whole of them put together.''I make no doubt but ye are,' agreed Mr. McCullagh, who held precisely the same opinion about himself.'And that's why I don't go away. If I went I should only be wondering how everything was getting on. It was bad enough in the old days, when, after a fashion, I had no one to please or consider save myself; but it is far worse now. The interests of all the shareholders seem hanging upon me. Do you know there are times when even with our splendidly prosperous business I feel the strain more than I can bear.'It did not occur to Mr. McCullagh as strange that the man who found one business too much for him should be thinking of embarking in another. Mr. Pousnett's temperament struck

him as one of those which find it impossible to remain still. Forming a company for the due development of Norman's Bay appeared the most natural thing in the world for him to take to in that glorious summer-time which was upon them. Just then, as he explained, while they were wending their way to Norman Castle, he had a great chance. He could get the new company favourably mentioned in the Times. The man who did the money article had by accident been stranded at Norman's Bay, and was so delighted with the place, with the scenery, with the sands, with the bathing, with the roads, with the old castle and the older church, that he asked, 'Why will people go to Brighton? why don't they come here? Why has nobody discovered Norman's Bay and converted it into a health resort?' When told Mr. Pousnett, the great Mr. Pousnett of Pousnett & Co. (Limited), intended to 'make' Norman's Bay, he expressed himself delighted, and said he himself would take the very first new house which was built if it fronted the sea and were within his limit.'So,' finished Mr. Pousnett, 'what I intend to do is knock up a company as soon as possible. I shall only reserve about fifty acres for myself, just enough to keep the house private, and give that end of the esplanade a "tone." Lord Cresham has bought ten acres from me (and given a fancy price for his purchase too),' added Mr. Pousnett, in parenthesis; 'so, one way or other, I think the thing is sure to go. I expect the surveyor and lawyer over to-day from the Isle of Wight, where they both chance to be stopping. I am so glad you are down here, because you will be able to hear their opinion.'Mr. McCullagh felt very much obliged, but he could not stop to meet the gentlemen referred to. He must be getting back to town after they had been over Norman Castle.'That's nonsense,' answered Mr. Pousnett; 'now I have got you I shall keep you. Send a telegraph message to Basinghall-street that they need not expect you to-day;' which suggestion, meeting all the requirements of the case, was in due time acted upon.Having, during the course of the previous evening, disburdened his mind concerning the importance of matters relating to the next world, Mr. Pousnett ere long took occasion to declare his sentiments regarding this. He did not shirk the matrimonial question in the least. He talked of his eldest daughter, now Viscountess Cresham, of Captain Crawford, of his second daughter and Mr. Stoddard, to whom she was

married, of Miss Vanderton's curate who had taken her off to Herefordshire.In each case he maintained he had secured the happiness of the parties interested. He spoke most sensibly and with thorough conviction. He was almost confidential in his utterances. He mentioned his daughter's weaknesses and his son's faults; told what trouble he had gone through himself, and, indeed, sent Mr. McCullagh home on the following day with quite a different opinion of the senior partner from any he had ever previously entertained.'He's just killing himself with work,' said Mr. McCullagh to Mr. Snow. The worthy pair had met in King William-street, and in answer to a remark that he looked as if he had been in the country, the Scotchman observed, in a careless sort of way, he had only been down with Mr. Pousnett to that place of his on the coast.'Norman's Bay!' exclaimed Mr. Snow. 'There is going to be a company formed to make it a second Brighton, isn't there? Do come into my office; I want to know all about it. A friend of mine I know will take shares. Everything Pousnett touches is lucky.'By no means loth to meet with an appreciative listener, Mr. McCullagh acceded to this request, and unburdened himself amongst other items of news of the fact he believed if Pousnett went on at the rate he was doing he wouldn't last many years.'And that would be a pity; for we have not many such men, and we can't spare one of them,' observed Mr. Snow sympathetically.'We'll have to spare one if he does not take some rest soon,' answered Mr. McCullagh, mentally reverting to Mr. Pousnett's opinions concerning the worthlessness of earthly success.'Let us hope he will be warned in time,' said Mr. Snow.After a little while Mr. McCullagh departed; and then Mr. Snow took up a sheet of paper and wrote these words to Mr. Alty:'The first forenoon you are passing, please give me a call.'Next morning Mr. Alty obeyed this summons.'Anything very good for me?' he asked, putting his ascetic face inside the door.'Important, at any rate,' returned Mr. Snow. 'Don't stand there. Come in. I sent for you,' he went on, 'to tell

you to get off the direction of Pousnetts'. He's beginning to complain of his health, and it does not require a conjurer to know what that means.''But why should 1 get off the direction?' asked Mr. Alty plaintively.'O, that is just as you please, of course. Only never say hereafter I did not give you a hint in time.'CHAPTER XXXV.
MR. M'CULLAGH TRIUMPHANT.STILL over the waves of success bounded that gallant bark, Pousnett & Co. (Limited); and if it were possible for a greater success to have been compassed than was achieved by the senior partner, when he generously allowed the general public to participate in the profit of his business, it was when he consented to dispose of the barren tract of waste land adjoining Norman Tower, and was good enough to sell his interest in it for fifty thousand pounds in solid cash, and five hundred paid-up shares, value ten pounds each. Previously having manipulated sales of portions of the property to a considerable extent, Mr. Snow calculated he could not have netted less than a hundred and thirty thousand pounds on the transaction, to say nothing of Norman Castle, where he meant for the future, when not in London, to reside.His house on the Thames was already let for a hydropathic establishment, and the land surrounding it, except a portion of the grounds and gardens, cut up into plots for the erection of villa residences. So far as worldly success can make a man happy, Mr. Pousnett ought to have been esteemed fortunate; but there is always a fox gnawing somewhere. The senior partner's fox being the state of his health, he did not conceal the fact so sedulously as might have been the case otherwise--if, for example, his purse instead of himself had been sick. Ere long, therefore, Mr. Pousnett's 'good friends' in the City knew the 'strain had been too much for him;' and with wonderful unanimity they all began to regret he could not be induced to consider himself in time.When pressed by anxious inquirers, who button-holed him to get an explicit answer, Mr. Pousnett confessed with a laugh that all the doctors his ' better-half insisted on his consulting' were agreed he had overworked himself, and declared nothing but complete rest could do him any good. 'So I must remain bad,' finished Mr. Pousnett; 'for if those wise men know how I am to get away, I am sure I do not.'In spite of this assertion, however, he fell into the habit of

running out of town often on Saturdays, and not returning till Tuesday in the following week; then he tried the effect of a short tour on the Continent; then he went with Sir Somebody Somebody for a trip in his yacht, which did more for his health than anything he had yet tried; then in the year '59, he suddenly experienced a relapse; and, at the beginning of 1860, just after the tremendous frost which ushered in that January, it was formally announced Mr. Pousnett felt himself 'unable longer to hold the responsible post, the duties of which he had hitherto fulfilled, and which, for the future, would be discharged by Mr. Robert McCullagh, whose thorough knowledge of the business,' &c.Great sympathy was expressed for Mr. Pousnett, great confidence declared in Mr. Robert McCullagh; the votes of condolence, the votes of thanks, the votes of regret because Mr. Pousnett was leaving the board, the votes of pleasure because Robert McCullagh was coming more prominently forward, were all duly proposed, seconded, passed, and recorded in the newspapers. A large dividend was declared, a satisfactory statement of affairs published; the auditors vouched they had examined the accounts, and found them correct. So much was placed to the reserve fund, so much allotted to the shareholders. Every one was pleased--unless, indeed, it might be Mr. Pousnett, who uttered his thanks for the kindly feeling manifested in a few broken, but well-chosen, words; and who, after the meeting, walked away with Lord Cresham, looking very sad and downcast, but yet a mere boy in comparison with his son-in-law.Thus exit Mr. Pousnett, en route to the Continent. He was going to the south of France for his health. Long before this incident, however, Mr. Alty had retired from the direction also. Like his great prototype, he did not do so till all his affairs were set in order, his shares sold, everything which it seemed necessary to do finished.It was as well; for all unconsciously Mr. Alty's departure from the board-room of Pousnett (Limited) meant the commencement of a longer journey than that contemplated by Mr. Pousnett.He was taken ill very suddenly and seriously; and before Mr. Snow, who had been sent for in hot haste, could arrive, the work begun by Time was finished by Death, and the only thing which remained in the old dingy house with the shabby furniture at Bow of the man who had been master of it was a

quiet silent figure covered with a white sheet, that would never trouble itself any more about the state of the money market, or the defalcations of tenants, or the shortcomings of borrowers, or find delight in pheasants and good wines, and the freshest of fresh country butter, and the plumpest turkey that ever graced a Christmas dinner.Mr. Snow followed him to his last home in that sorrowful cemetery at Ilford, which produces so weird an effect on the mind when one comes upon it suddenly and unexpectedly from the breeze-laden Flats of Wanstead.It was impossible to lay him with his father at Limehouse; and years before he had, with his usual foresight and prudence, invested in a vault at Ilford, where a brother and sister, buried at their own proper and individual expense, were affectionately awaiting his arrival.Both as he went and returned Mr. Snow wondered whether Mr. Alty had left him anything, and if so, how much. Such thoughts will intrude even on mournful occasions; and the drive to and from Ilford, through Stratford and along the Romford-road, is of a description to require something pleasant to enliven it.The matter was soon set at rest. With commendable promptitude the will was produced and read. Some nephews and nieces and cousins, and persons who called themselves old friends, were present; but they might as well have stayed away, for Jacob Alty, who during his lifetime had never given one farthing he could help to the widow or the orphan, who hated the poor and made no secret of his antipathy, left everything of which he died possessed--except the house at Bow and two hundred a year for the use of his sister, and fifty pounds apiece to his executors--to found and endow a Charity to be called 'The Jacob Alty Almshouses;' to fit up and maintain a ward in the London Hospital, he directed should be named 'The Jacob Alty Ward;' to furnishing an annual Christmas dinner, to be designated 'The Jacob Alty Christmas Dinner,' for fifty poor persons, not under sixty years of age, residents in the parish of Limehouse, and fifty not under sixty from the parish of Bow; and a legacy of a hundred pounds each to ten religious and medical societies, the names of which it would be as tedious for any one not a lawyer, and paid for his time, to read, as it certainly would prove to write.'Well, Mr. Snow,' said Miss Alty, in commentary, when they were left alone.'Well, Miss Alty,' answered Mr. Snow.'Of course I can live on two hundred a year.''I am greatly afraid you will have to try.''I can't imagine why he left you nothing.''I certainly thought he would have remembered me, especially as I helped him to make large sums of money.''You think it would be of no use disputing the will?''Not the slightest.''And you see it is only for my life.''Yes, or else we might have made your income larger.''O, I have some money saved,' confessed Miss Alty.'Much?''Not much, but enough, I think, to make more of. Will you come one day and talk it over?''Certainly.''Only to think of those old men and women!''Well, it was his own, and he had a right to do what he liked with it.''But I can't get the thought of you out of my mind.''O, never mind me, Miss Alty; if I helped your brother to make money, his money helped me to my present position.''It is very good and nice of you to say so.''It is the truth,' answered Mr. Snow.'Well, at any rate,' said one of the nephews, who insisted on fastening himself to Mr. Snow, as that gentleman walked back to London, 'you have got fifty pounds, and that is than any one of us has.''Yes, your uncle left me fifty,' agreed Mr. Snow, feeling the admission bound him to nothing.'And as you are executor there will surely be a lot of pickings.'Mr. Snow shrugged his shoulders in dissent; but at time he was thinking, if there were not, he would know reason why.If Mr. Alty thought his will would produce a public sensation he was disappointed. The time has completely gone by when, save in the columns of a local paper, almshouses, Christmas dinners, and suchlike are regarded with the smallest interest.His kindred anathematised his memory; after a very time the old men and women came to consider the almshouses and the December feast as their due; the patients in the

London Hospital thought no more of Jacob Alty than of anybody else. Miss Alty congratulated her foresight in having saved all she could while her brother lived; and Mr. Snow and his colleague joined together to make as much as possible out of the 'pickings.'For a time after the retirement of the senior partner, as many people continued to call Mr. Pousnett, it was remarked by several persons--Mr. Alty's executor amongst the number--that Robert McCullagh was a changed man. It seemed as though the weight of some incubus had been removed; as though for the first time since he called himself one of the firm he felt he was really a capable and responsible individual.'The governor weighed us all down,' said Stanley Pousnett, in friendly explanation. 'He is so clever himself he believes everybody else is a fool, and shows his belief, which sometimes proves trying. He said he would soon come back to give us the benefit of his advice; but he has not done so yet--and, you see, we are still managing to push along.'Once again in those days Robert tried to reestablish friendly relations with his father, and once again he was repulsed. Mr. McCullagh, plodding on in his own old way, would have none of him.'Never more,' said Robert to his wife, 'will I hold out the right hand of fellowship; never. Any advance in the future must come from him.''Don't say that,' entreated his wife; 'you cannot tell what may happen.''I can tell that I do not mean to put myself in the way of being rudely rebuffed.''But yet he is your father, Robert.''Yes, and I am his son, Janey;' which answer silenced Janey, who had never told her husband that twice, having essayed to speak to him and so close the breach, Mr. McCullagh elected to pass her by as he might a stranger.As years passed on, however, people began again to make remarks in connection with Pousnetts': one, that Robert McCullagh was growing stout, as is curiously and unhappily the fashion of City men; and another, that he and Mr. Stanley Pousnett were getting to look as if the ' strain' of so great a business were even worse for them than it had proved for Mr. Pousnett.With Mr. Stanley this was particularly noticeable. He was living now in the Portman-square house with his wife, the

beautiful heiress who had excited such admiration on the occasion of that memorable party on New Year's night. He was constantly complaining of his head; and once when recommended by a friend to follow his father's example, and retire from business altogether, he said in a tone which removed from his expression all suspicion of irreverence,'I wish to God I could!'Wisely the world began to whisper, 'Such gigantic concerns were too much for any one;' that, 'after all, capital did not mean everything;' that 'no organisation could prevent the work being tremendous for the principals.'In confidence, Mr. Stanley Pousnett said to his wife, 'I'd rather carry a hod;' while Robert remarked gloomily to Janey, 'I wish I were a day labourer.'When the same persons who had spoken to Mr. McCullagh concerning his son's improved looks and spirits commented upon the worn expression of Robert's face, the man who had made his money by such different means merely observed,'Folk who must needs be grand have to pay for it.'Robert's house in Brunswick-square, his wife's pretty dress, the apparel of his children, his 'carriage friends,' his servants, the flowers in the balcony, the long white curtains that shaded his windows, were all so many sins in the mind of a father who refused to speak to the prodigal, whose worst fault, perhaps, was that he reminded him of his dead wife.He truly believed Robert inherited all his mother's faults; whereas the young man had only taken the most amiable traits from both parents, conjoined, indeed, with a fatal weakness of character which even Janey understood.'My poor darling!' she thought--for Robert could be a hero to her nevermore for ever--'my poor, poor dear!'O, how she loved him! Never perhaps before did any woman who so thoroughly comprehended the feebleness a husband's nature love one so utterly.And the love was mutual. Never did man so idolise a wife as Robert did Janey.The years slipped by. When there is little to mark the passage of Time, it is marvellous to consider how noiseless and stealthy are its swift sure footsteps. With most persons trade was very good indeed: a time of plenty had come to England (alas, that no Joseph then lifted his voice to warn his countrymen of the mournful miserable time of dearth which has since followed!). People thought the sun of prosperity was going to

shine on them for ever. Bankers were complaisant, wholesale houses accommodating, retail shops anxious only to open up a connection. Business, in a word, was, so everybody said, in the healthiest state imaginable; when one morning, in the late autumn of 1864, Alick, now grown to manhood, announced to Mr. McCullagh, on his return from a call on one of the large shipping houses, that a lady had been 'twice after him,' and seemed put out to think she could not see him.She'll be back again after a bit,' finished Alick.'What like was she?' asked Mr. McCullagh; 'didn't she leave any name?''She wouldn't leave her name, and I couldn't say just what she was in the face, as she had a thick veil on her.''I can't think what any lady can be wanting coming after me,' observed Mr. McCullagh thoughtfully. 'If it's any of those Sisters, mind, I won't see her, Alick. It's just dreadful the way females come into a man's office nowadays, and refuse to stir a step till they have got his money. I am sure there was one last week I'd like to have been obliged to get the police to. I met her in the hall, and she wouldn't go, till at last I gave her a shilling, and then she stood on the doorstep upbraiding me for my meanness.''This is no a Sister,' said Alick; 'she was a well-dressed woman, and a civil-spoken sort of body.'It was not long, only a few minutes in fact, ere the stranger appeared once again in Mr. McCullagh's hall, begging so earnestly for a private interview, that, with many misgivings as to his wisdom in trusting himself alone with an importunate person of the other sex, she was duly escorted into Mr. McCullagh's own room, where he did not lose one second in asking her business.'You do not remember me? she began, raising her veil.'I never set eyes on ye in all my life before,' he answered.'O yes, you did,' she said. 'Once, when you first came to London.''Why, surely ye're no--''I am indeed; and the most wretched woman on earth;' and she burst into tears.Mr. McCullagh made no comment on the position as thus broadly indicated. In a dumb sort of wonder he waited for what was to come next. Why, how long was it since he had seen her? He was then a raw lad from the country, and she a good-looking young widow, with her mourning fal-lals fresh

about her; and his uncle only just laid in the grave, and her heart as cold as steel, for all he had been a kind husband and true. And here she was, after the long, long years that had come and gone, her hair gray, her face haggard, 'greetin' like a hurt child;' but Mr. McCullagh offered no sympathy.'What the de'il brought her to me?' he marvelled.'I have come to you on a matter of life and death, Mr. McCullagh,' she said, as soon as she could speak audibly.'That's serious,' observed her relative cautiously.'You may be sure nothing which was not serious could have brought me here.''Weel, I'll confess I do feel a wee surprised. Won't ye be seated, mem?''No, thank you, I can't sit. What I came about is this. To-day there will be a bill presented at your bank.''Whose bill?' he asked.'Yours; and, O Mr. McCullagh, what I've come here to entreat is that--''Stop a moment,' interrupted Mr. McCullagh. 'What ye say is an impossibility, for I never signed a bill in my life.''I know that.' She was now bold with desperation. 'Nevertheless, there will be one presented there to-day, and unless it is paid ruin and disgrace and misery will come upon us.'Do ye mean it's a forgery, woman?'She stretched out her hands to him with a mute appeal, while her lips formed the word she could not speak.'My conscience!' and Mr. McCullagh in his extremity took a few short steps backwards and forwards over the carpet.Then somehow she managed to tell him all: how her son had done this thing, how they had moved heaven and earth to raise the money to meet the bill, how they had tried to get it returned without presentation, and how they failed. 'And now--now I've come to you as my last hope on earth;' and to Mr. McCullagh's horror she fell on her knees before him, and tried to clasp his knees.'Get up--get up!' he cried, with more vehemence than politeness. 'What do ye kneel to me for? If ye had knelt oftener to your Maker, it's like this chastisement would never have fallen on ye. Get up out of that, do. I wouldn't for a five-pound note anybody came in and found ye.''I'll stay on my knees till you say you will help me in this extremity.''Well, then, I'll never say it. For any sake do get up on your feet. It's not seemly; a woman of your age ought to have more sense. Why, ye must be close on threescore year and ten if ye're a day.'It might not be a courteous way of inducing the lady to assume an erect position, but it was effectual. Somehow she rose--it was not with Mr. McCullagh's help--and, standing before him with streaming eyes and hands working convulsively, she asked that gentleman to bring the case home to himself: what would he say if his own son were in a similar trouble?'What would I say?' repeated Mr. McCullagh; 'not much, but to the purpose. I'd say as he had sinned he must suffer.''O, you are cruel!' she exclaimed; 'and you would not lose one sixpence, and you would save us from such misery as I am afraid even to think of.''Your son ought to have thought of that before he took pen in hand to sign another man's name.''That's true enough; but still I entreat you to have mercy.''How can I have mercy when there's not a banker in London but knows I have never done such a thing as accept a bill in my life?''You need not say, though, that you have not signed this. If it was your own son you could not be hard as this, and what is mine might be your case; we none of us can tell what we may come to.''One of my own sons once told me a lie, or at least what I suppose ye would call prevaricated to me. He led me to believe a thing was true I found out was different, and I've never spoke to him since. So what's the use,' added Mr. McCullagh, with sudden fierceness, 'coming to me to pick your son out of the mire, when, for a small fault, in comparison, I haven't let mine cross my threshold for eight long years?''My God!' she said, 'and he has a wife and family!''And my son has a wife and family,' retorted Mr. McCullagh, positively revelling in his Spartan-like fortitude.'Ah, you prophesied I might some day meet you when I would rather not. I always heard you were a hard man, but I did not think you would prove harder than the nether mill-stone. As nothing will move you, I will go to the bank-manager. He may be flesh and blood.''If ye mean that he may condone the forgery, he daren't,' answered Mr. McCullagh; 'it would be as much as his place

is worth, and his liberty too. It's just an awful poseetion for every one of us; when I mind me of your first husband, I wonder how he came to have such a son.''He was a good just man,' she sobbed.'Ay, and a lot of respect ye showed to his memory, marrying again.''If he could speak he would ask you to have pity on his son.''And it's only because he is not here to speak is the one thing that makes me hesitate for a minute. He was a true man, none better, and it's a sore consideration to think of a son of his being trailed to gaol all because he hadn't a mother fit to bring him up in the way he should go.''It is too dreadful! If you won't lift your finger to help us out of our trouble I'll go to him this minute, and bid him fly the country while there's still time.''And what if I don't let ye leave this room? Bide a bit,' he added, as she rushed to the door, 'don't be in such a hurry;' and he pushed her aside while he turned the key in the lock, and coolly put it in his pocket. 'As I tell ye, I can't just make up my mind to refuse to help my uncle's son; but I must think it out. Sit down, can't ye? there's a chair.'From that minute she knew he would so manage as to keep the affair quiet; but he had let her feel his iron hand, so that the terms on which he insisted caused no surprise.The sinner was to go abroad; the business in the Minories was to be handed over to Mr. McCullagh, who, on his side, said he would do all he could to save something out of the wreck.'I conclude the trade's no worth a groat,' he grumbled, 'or they'd never have sunk so low as this; but I'll not be opposed by my own kin, and I'll have no more paper accidents, thank ye. And so now, if ye'll please to dry your eyes, we'll go down together to see your son. Who wants me?' Mr. McCullagh broke off to say, as there came a smart tapping at the door. 'A note from the bank, is it?' he remarked, when, having given admittance to Alick, that young man placed an envelope in Mr. McCullagh's hands, and remarked the messenger was waiting.'Tell him I know what he wants, and will be round in half an hour. Now, mem, if you're ready;' and the lady drawing down her veil, Mr. McCullagh took his hat, and they walked out of the court together and into Basinghall-street, where the sun was shining brightly.In the Minories there proved no difficulty in dealing with the unfortunate owners of that opposition which was to have ruined the older business.So far as Mr. McCullagh could glean, affairs had for many years been going surely and steadily to the dogs. No shift for raising money but had been adopted; the Bread-street-hill concern was theirs but in name. Another person really owned the whole of that, merely paying a small sum a year to the family of the founder.'Folk that will be grand must pay the penalty,' again observed Mr. McCullagh sententiously. It was a favourite expression of his, and there was no one there in a position to contradict his statement.Mr. Alfred Mostin had been called in as a possibly useful ally, certainly as a sympathetic friend. Alfred would not have forged a name himself, but he could feel for a man who had; particularly when that man was so placed as to become a mark for the exercise of Mr. McCullagh's tongue.Upon the whole, however, that gentleman, having decided to do a generous thing for 'the sake of one who was dead and gone,' let them all off much easier than they could have expected.He was having everything his own way; he was about to stamp out the only opposition that had ever really given him anxiety; he was triumphant over the foolish senseless bit o' pride his uncle threw himself away on; he was able to remark, without any one feeling courageous enough to dispute the point, that birds of a feather flocked together; which was a sneer at Alfred Mostin that luckless individual thought very uncalled for.Nevertheless, though Mr. McCullagh carried all before him for a space, Alfred Mostin's hour came at last. It was after matters had been arranged at the bank, and when the Scotchman came down to have another 'keek' at the books'There's one thing,' he said to his cousin, when, with a contemptuous snort, he closed the balance-sheet which showed so disastrous a result, 'I'd like weel if ye'd tell me. Who was Upperton & Co.? for Moorhall, I take it, was put forward by somebody in the background.''I can't inform you,' was the answer, 'for I never could get at that myself; but I think Mr. Mostin knows. Don't you'?Thus directly appealed to, Alf replied shortly, 'O yes, I know; I have always known.''If ye mind, Ailfred,' observed Mr. McCullagh, 'I told ye my mind misgave me ye were telling me a lee.''Well, I was,' said Mr. Mostin.'And what call had ye to do that, and me offering ye money for the information?''I did not want to make mischief or cause bad blood. I am not so fond of tale-bearing as some of your family.''Have ye any objection to speak out now, or is it still secret?''It can't do any harm to speak out, that I know of. It was Pousnett.''Pousnett! Ye're joking, man.''No, I am not. It was your dear friend the senior part started Upperton to try and ruin your trade; and he'd have done it too, if he could have found anybody who understood the business.''Bless and save us!' ejaculated Mr. McCullagh.'And send you more wit and me more money,' added Mr. Mostin, as he lounged out of the office.CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE CRASH.IT was the heart of summer; down upon the City streets the sun poured fiercely. In such cool grots as the court where Mr. McCullagh resided the heat was not so intense; but it was great enough anywhere to cause men wildly minded and wickedly indifferent to money matters to plunge into various places where cooling drinks in the shape of champagne and claret cup, iced ginger-beer and gin, S. and B., and even the tankard of modest Bass were to be procured.Sauntering easily up Nicholas-lane, which was far cooler than the wider thoroughfare he had left a moment before, Mr. Snow, dressed in a white waistcoat and wearing a very light pair of trousers, his feet encased in easy shoes, and a white hat pushed as far back as possible off his forehead, chanced to meet a friend, with whom he stopped to exchange such remarks as the state of the thermometer and the general condition of the money market suggested. They decided it was very hot; two degrees hotter than it had been at some previous period of the world's history; further, they agreed things were flat; indeed, that there was so little doing, it would not be a bad time to choose for running out of town; then having abundant leisure, and the shade of the high houses over the narrow lane proving grateful after the blaze and glare of Cornhill and King William-street, they fell to making a comparative analysis of the merits and demerits of the various watering-places they could at the moment recall to mind. After that they had a chat about their respective gardens, but at last made a move as if to separate. It was then Mr. Snow, looking vaguely across the lane at nothing in particular, said, in an indifferent sort of way,'By the bye, have you still got any shares in Pousnetts'?''A few. Why, do you want any?''O no, I don't want any, thank you;' then, after an instant's pause, 'they are about as high now as they ever will be, I think.''You think so?''Yes, I do.''Well, good-bye; God bless you!'It was remarkable how Mr. Snow knew, for full three months elapsed, and his friend was rather beginning to believe that gentleman's rare intuition had been for once at fault, and to regret having on so slight a hint sold his shares, when two anxious men ran down from London to Norman Castle to take counsel with Mr. Pousnett.The senior partner had attained to the dignity of gout, and was sitting with his legs in bandages on a rest, near a window which commanded a view of Norman's Bay and the new town the company 'formed for the purchase of,' &c., had evolved from the sands of the seashore.'Well?' said Mr. Pousnett, extending a couple of fingers to each of his visitors, neither of whom, it must be admitted, did he seem particularly charmed to behold. 'Well?'Mr. Stanley answered this interrogative remark only by a gloomy silence, and it therefore fell on Robert McCullagh to speak.'We have come, sir, to consult you as to what is best to be done.'Mr. Pousnett lifted his eyebrows in amazed surprise.'There is only one thing to do, I apprehend,' he answered.'And that is--''Stop!'The gloom deepened in his son's face, and that gloom found an even darker reflection on Robert McCullagh's brow.Mr. Pousnett continued with imperturbable calmness,'It has been coming to this for a long time. I have for a considerable period foreseen that it would be necessary for you to avail yourselves of the first opportunity which offered for closing a concern you have proved yourselves perfectly incapable of managing. You have got that opportunity now-seize it.''What we came down to know,' said Robert, with more boldness than might have been expected from him, 'was whether you would not at this crisis step forward with a sufficient sum to enable us to tide over the present difficulty, and try whether we could not manage so to work the business as to keep it alive.''Quite impossible,' replied Mr. Pousnett.'May I ask to which question you make that answer? in-

quired his son; 'to our carrying on the business, or to your stepping forward with assistance?''To both,' declared the wise man, who had done so well for himself. 'And now, Stanley, once for all, understand I am not going to discuss or argue this matter with you. My health is not in a state to permit me to engage in controversy. I left you with a splendid going concern, a large capital, the prestige of an old and honoured name, and--''You left us, sir,' broke in Robert McCullagh, 'hopelessly insolvent.'Mr. Pousnett turned upon his former partner with a look of contemptuous displeasure.'Ah, well,' he said, 'you had better tell that to your shareholders, and see how they will receive the intelligence.''They will have to be told the truth, I suppose,' persisted Robert doggedly.'Then try the experiment. Of course I shall have to make my statement, and in your own interests I must remark it seems to me a pity the two should not be identical. I really am at a loss to know what has procured me the pleasure of this visit. Situated as you are, I cannot imagine why you did not remain in town and see your solicitor.''Father,' began Stanley Pousnett, 'it may be all very well to take this tone with the world, but why do you adopt it with us? We know now the thing has been done, and we know also we shall have to suffer. What is the use of talking as though we had brought misfortune on ourselves, when for years we have been fighting as two men, I suppose, never fought before to save our shareholders from loss and our creditors from ruin?''I have told you before, I am not going to argue this matter. By bitter experience, I know how incompetent you both are to deal with the simplest commercial difficulty. I left you with the ball at your feet; if you were unequal to the game it is no fault of mine. Besides, I do not know of what you complain. You have lived in good style, Stanley; you have enjoyed every luxury a man could desire; your wife has a fine fortune settled on herself, which no indignant creditor can touch. And as for you, Mr. McCullagh,' proceeded Mr. Pousnett, 'you came to me with nothing, and if you leave the concern in the same destitute condition, you have but yourself to thank for it. Any man might have made his fortune out of the amount you have permitted to slip through your fingers. But even you have lived, and lived well, on the money of your shareholders.''I would rather have lived on bread and water--' Robert was beginning, when Mr. Pousnett interrupted him.'Pray spare me all that,' he said, with a contemptuous smile. 'Any such remarks had much better be addressed to the general public. I assure you it is perfect waste of time talking the matter over with me. Long ago I saw you would never be able to stand your ground. I knew this result was a mere question of time.''Then, in a word, you will do nothing?' said his son impatiently.'In a word, I am not going to throw good money after bad, if that is what you mean. Hereafter you will thank me for my firmness. And now I think you had better get back to town as soon as possible. Will you have luncheon?'They both said they could not eat anything; and then, being after a fashion turned civilly out of the house, they went down to the seashore, and walked about and sat on the shingle for a time, and talked miserably, and tried to reconcile themselves to the disgrace and the trouble they foresaw in store.'Your father led us into this mess, and he ought to have helped us out of it,' said Robert McCullagh bitterly.Stanley Pousnett did not speak in reply. He felt he could not say all he had in his mind about his father.'That India business must have been shaky all along,' observed Robert drearily.'If we talk for ever we can't mend matters, I'm afraid,' said Stanley Pousnett; and then they did talk at length, as men do in such extremity, travelling the same ground over and over and over again.In the afternoon they got a train which took them back to London from their fruitless journey, and the next day it was known that Pousnett & Co. (Limited) had sent out letters stating, owing to the stopping of their Madras Branch, they were obliged temporarily to suspend payment.'So that card castle has collapsed at last,' remarked Mr. Snow.'And Bob is the only one of the lot who will save nothing out of the wreck,' returned Alfred Mostin.'And I'll be bound the whole fault will be laid at his door.''Though the concern was hopelessly rotten eleven years ago.''Yes, but how is anybody to prove that?''Nobody can. The things which are most certain are those generally utterly impossible of proof.''Well, I made something out of Pousnetts',' muttered Mr. Snow, with some natural self-congratulation.The news that Pousnetts' house had stopped was received almost with incredulity. To the very last confidence in the concern remained unshaken. On the day before the circular was issued their acceptances were duly met, their cheques duly honoured; no writs were out, or actions threatened or executions pending. The whole affair seemed so entirely that of a vessel going down in a calm sea, without a breath of wind stirring or the slightest apparent reason for the calamity, that people generally believed it was only a temporary hitch which had occurred; they thought the leak which sprang so suddenly could surely be stopped, and that the ship bearing the fortunes of Pousnett (Limited) would still make many a good voyage.It was rumoured Mr. Pousnett was expected in town immediately, and then people felt everything would be explained and put right. It seemed too monstrous to believe such an enormous concern should break to pieces in a moment, so large an amount of capital have been spent! At that period men's minds had not become habituated to the spectacle of huge businesses heeling over and going down head foremost in the summary fashion to which they since have grown accustomed. There might be, and no doubt was, some temporary difficulty; but if once the former senior partner brought his experience to bear on the difficulty, however it had arisen, things would soon be set in order. The solicitors made light of the matter; the statement before the commissioner was of the airiest and most agreeable description. There are gentlemen who understand the importance of letting the public down easily, and though Mr. Pousnett did not appear in the transaction, there could be no doubt he was really stage-manager and wire-puller at this period of the affair.After a time there was a talk-it never was anything but talk, yet it served to amuse the shareholders-of reconstructing the company and going on with it the same as ever, only with Mr. Pousnett as chief and Mr. Robert McCullagh nowhere. Tacitly it seemed agreed amongst the high contracting parties, except the scapegoat himself, that all the sins of all the persons connected with Pousnett & Co. (Limited), in the way of extravagance, folly, short-sightedness, bad management, lack of ordinary prudence, and an utter absence of eco-

nomy, were to be laid on Robert, who, bearing this burden was to be thrust out into the wilderness.In vain he remonstrated, explained, argued, lamented-- nobody
believed a word he said; not a creditor but anathematised him, not a
soul but marvelled how he could have had the presumption to imagine he
could fill Pousnett's shoes. Stanley Pousnett took to his bed, not in
emulation of his father's tactics, but because the long anxiety and
the heavy ultimate blow had really been too much for him. As for
Robert, though he felt ill enough and wretched enough, he was still
walked about the City. Somebody, it was quite clear, must remain to
answer the questions, to which replies were daily required. The other
directors simply brazened the matter out, or else took refuge in an
inconceivable ignorance. By degrees the truth leaked out. Pousnetts'
was going to be a very bad business indeed; there would be no
reconstruction of the company, no dividend, no anything except with
the lawyers and the bankruptcy people, who would continue to realise
and swallow. Nobody meant to refund a penny; those who had lost,
seeing they were supposed to stand an equal chance of winning, must
put up with the result.The lease of the house in Portman-square belonged to Mr. Pousnett; but the new and costly furniture having been ordered and paid for by Mr. Stanley--who, in conjunction with Mr. Robert McCullagh, had re Pousnett & Co. (Limited) incurred various debts, for which they could be and were held personally liable--was sold; the proceeds being kept by the lawyers for their own benefit.'There won't be a bit of carrion left for anybody but the crows,' remarked Mr. Snow to Alf Mostin, who was the only man to whom he spoke freely about the Pousnett trouble.'Trust the crows for leaving a bit of carrion for anybody else,' amended Mr. Mostin.'They will make it a ten years' business,' observed Mr. Snow; and his words were within the mark, for Pousnetts' estate is not wound up yet. There is some trifle of money left, and while it remains the lawyers are too conscientious to write 'Finis' on the last page of the dreary record.No description could convey any adequate idea of the effect produced on Mr. McCullagh by the crushing downfall of the great house with which it had once given him such pride to say his son was connected.He was a man who felt debt a bitter dishonour, the slight-

est deflection from the straight path of fair trading a terrible disgrace; and the awful things which were revealed in the course of those bankruptcy proceedings, things which made him fear to read his Times by reason of what he might chance to find there, would almost require another book to chronicle.Every day something fresh came out about Pousnetts': some valuable asset discovered to be worth about the value of the paper that had made pompous mention of it; some firm tottering to bankruptcy whose bills had been taken by the company; some security found utterly unavailable.It was with shame Mr. McCullagh read these 'explanations' and 'disclosures.' He did not like walking in the City streets; he feared to meet his acquaintances. Pousnetts' was his last thought before he sought his bed, where sleep refused to descend and refresh him, and his first consideration when the morning sun 'glinted' in through the window-pane.Very resolutely he refused to discuss the business with any one. He said 'he would prefair not speaking about it;' and he was so explicit and determined on this point people began to think that, spite of his experience, he had been, in City parlance, 'bitten to the bone.'Only Mr. Snow was able to extract a word from him, and that of the briefest. In answer to an expression of pity for Robert, the Spartan father sternly answered, 'As he has sown he must reap.'Mr. Snow shrugged his shoulders in reply, which action so irritated Mr. McCullagh that he burst out,'I know well enough what ye're thinking of, but it makes matters no better. It is a mere matter of choice. If ye like to consider Robert as taken in, that means he's a fool; if ye would rather believe he was in the swim, that proves he's a rogue; and for my own part I don't think there's a hair to choose between the two characters.'Mr. Snow smiled incredulously.'Except,' went on Mr. McCullagh, 'that I'd rather have to work with a rogue, because it would be my own fault if I let him take me in; but you never know how to deal with a fool.''I fancy I do,' was all Mr. Snow said; and there the conversation dropped, for Mr. McCullagh seemed quite indifferent whether he did or not.After all it was on Robert the worst of the trouble fell. There is a great deal of truth in one of Mr. Pousnett's favourite axioms, namely, that a man with a full purse can bear

reverses and even disgrace with much greater equanimity than he who has to face the world's scorn and anger without a halfpenny in his pocket. Robert had to face the Pousnett shareholders and general creditors, who looked upon him as a mere adventurer, in the character of an impecunious bankrupt.He was totally ruined; when the company foundered nothing remained to him from the wreck except his liabilities and Mrs. Lilands' annuity. All the few possessions he owned in the world, simply represented by his house and its contents, were totally insufficient to satisfy the Pousnett creditors, who, represented by able lawyers, came down upon him like ravening wolves.Perforce, he, like Mr. Stanley Pousnett, had, following the example of the illustrious company, to go through the Court, but, differing from his employer's son, he had nothing to fall back on. His father's doors were shut against him. His wife had no settlement. He had to borrow money to pay the preliminary expenses. He was as destitute of worldly wealth as the day his mother brought him into the world; and if he had gone on his knees and prayed any merchant in the City to give him employment, not a merchant but would have answered he could not possibly comply with the request. If it had not been for Janey he must have lost hope and courage; but in the poor lodgings whither they had retreated she made him as happy as a man so situated could be made, consoled him for the world's neglect, and tried to give him strength to bear the world's contumely.What tried him most was the eternal questioning on the subject of Pousnetts'. Over and over again he was forced to repeat information which, to the best of his ability, he had given honestly once. Explanations had to be gone through many times. The days passed, and so did the months; and still the legal and official ardour remained undiminished, and still the ardour seemed likely to know no abatement.'The best thing you can do,' advised Mr. Snow, ' is to go to America and see if any opening presents itself. It is forty weeks now since the concern smashed, and during the whole of that time these people have kept you at their beck and call. If you had any business you could not attend to it; and till some bigger failure takes the public mind off Pousnetts', you will get no business here. You have told everything there is to tell; and should you be wanted back again, why, you can come.

I'll find the funds. I have talked the matter over with your wife, and she is willing--indeed, wishful--for you to go.'It was literally the truth. Janey saw the misery and uncertainty of their position was eating her husband's heart out.'I can't leave mamma,' she said, when he spoke to her on the subject. 'I will stay at home and take care of her and the children, and you shall go away for a little and make our fortunes.'She tried to look bright and cheerful at the picture herself had conjured up; but the attempt proved somewhat of a failure.'If I can make even a little you will come to me?' he asked.'Ah, dear, don't let us talk of that!' she entreated. She knew before she could join him her mother must die; she would never be able to take such a journey, till the poor old lady, who was already sorely missing the comforts with which it had been her daughter's delight to surround her, was dead.Love and money had kept her alive so long; but it was very certain that, now the money seemed likely to run short, love could do very, very little. Not that so far they had encroached on Mrs. Lilands' annuity for their own wants. Janey's jewelry, her personal possessions, the old lace, the rare shawls, the things which her mother had kept hoarded away, were each in turn produced and disposed of, so that Mrs. Lilands might feel no stint; that the wine, the medicine, the generous diet, the constant attention, should know no change. Nevertheless her daughter already saw a change in the vacant face; and she was aware, without a miracle being wrought, she could not continue to provide for the invalid as she had done.Robert started from Liverpool; and when the husband and wife parted at Euston-square, it was on each side apparently with a brave face and a stout heart. Yet the man could not see the landscape clearly for many a mile after the train passed Harrow; and Janey, with veil drawn down and head bent, actually brushed up against Mr. McCullagh without perceiving him on her way home.To that gentleman his son's 'flight,' as he mentally termed the wise and necessary step Mr. Snow had advised, seemed the last drop in a cup of iniquity already filled to the brim.'He ought not to have run away across the Atlantic as if he'd committed some crime punishable at the law,' he decided. 'Why, even his namesake went no further nor Holland, after I

let him off far too easy; and he's doing well there, I'm told. No wonder Robert's wife was ashamed to look me in the face, and made believe she didn't see the father whose honest pride her husband has brought so low.'If Janey had seen the father thus pathetically referred to, she would not, in her altered circumstances, have attempted to speak to him; but, as has been said, her want of perception was no affectation. Blinded with tears, sad at heart, crushed in spirit, she made her way back to the humble home, which now seemed so desolate, utterly unconscious of having passsed friend or enemy by in silence.When Mr. Snow spoke of some 'bigger failure than Pousnetts'' as likely to occur, which should direct public attention from the collapse of that venture, he had no special house in his mind's eye that he considered 'shaky.' His utterance  was only made in a general spirit of prophecy. Ere long, somebody or something was sure to 'go,' and cause even a greater sensation than the crash he had foreseen to be inevitable from the first morning Robert McCullagh told him of the various changes contemplated by the senior partner and his coadjutors.As regarded what really came to pass during the course of the summer, when Robert, following his advice, left the lawyers and trustees in bankruptcy to swell their costs as well as they could without his assistance, Mr. Snow had as little prevision as those who paid in or remitted the day before the storm broke.It fell on London like a thunder-clap. News that the Corner House had suspended was flashed through the three kingdoms, across the Channel to France, under the ocean to America. Everywhere the telegraph went, people heard of the monetary crisis which had come; of the terror and panic in London that had seized all classes, resembling nothing that had ever before occurred in the City, except the bursting of the South Sea Bubble in Threadneedle-street.That was a time to try the stoutest heart. How many were ruined by and how many died of the shock, will never be even approximately known. In the memory of the oldest inhabitant, the Dragon and the Grasshopper hoisted high aloft the Lord Mayor's realm had never looked calmly down on such a scene, had never listened to such a clamour.Amongst the ruins of mighty firms, fair reputations, old-established banks, the estates of country gentlemen, the shops of struggling tradesmen, one man stood serene. It was the

once Senior Partner. He lost nothing; he had not a penny invested in anything the failure of the Corner House touched. Looking from afar upon the wreck of falling houses, which seemed to darken the air of the metropolis, he actually smiled as he murmured to himself,'Ah, the good people in the City will now have something else to think about than Pousnett & Co. (Limited).'This was a view of the catastrophe which did not present itself to Mr. McCullagh. He was one of those City people who just then had something else to do than think of Pousnett & Co. (Limited) in bankruptcy. Afterwards he felt himself 'free to confess'--indeed, he was rather free of confessing-that what he went through at that time put a few wrinkles on his face.'Why, ye couldn't tell,' he said, 'ye didn't know what might happen from hour to hour, or even minute to minute. Folk were afraid of their shadow. Some of the managers never left their banks all night; but stayed on the premises with the wisest of the directors, consulting what had best be done in the position in which they found themselves. Every morning's post brought news of some great house gone in the country; the like of it was never seen in our time. I don't mind saying now there were a couple of big firms I propped up myself through the worst of it. But for me they must have gone. Why, even the heads of my own bank took fright, and if I had not advised them to hold on, I do believe they'd have closed their doors. It just blew through the City like a whirlwind, taking first this one and then that off his feet, and dashing him to pieces. It was something to see; it is something to say a man has passed through; but, my faith, I wouldn't be the one to be out in such a storm again for all the money I saved myself and other people by working night and day while the worst of it lasted. And what it would have been, and who it would have left standing, if a lot of the London merchants, me amongst the number, hadn't fought the violence of the tempest shoulder to shoulder, the Lord alone knows; I'm very sure none of His creatures will ever be able to give a guess.'Eventually Mr. McCullagh emerged from the dust and rubbish of the business edifices which had fallen all around him, untouched in purse, unscathed in person save by those wrinkles before referred to.'I wouldn't say I'm the poorer by a halfpenny,' he observed to Captain Crawford, with whom he was having a final

settlement of accounts, in view of that gentleman's marriage to a 'well-tochered Scotch lass.'He who, Marius-like, had contemplated the ruins of dynasties greater than his own, might have echoed this remark; but he could not add that he had escaped untarnished in reputation. Not then, but a few months later, the Norman's Bay Company, after struggling madly to keep afloat a little longer, had to inform the public that it also was hopelessly insolvent. Not Pousnett & Co. (Limited), not Alfred Mostin in his worst Whitecross-street experiences, could have shown a longer list of liabilities and a more striking deficiency of assets than the Norman's Bay directors were able to display to an astounded world.In this case there was no Robert McCullagh, no imbecile junior partner endowed with few brains, uplifted with a too sudden success, 'intoxicated by the position to which Mr. Pousnett's fatal kindness had raised him,' to act as scapegoat; no Stanley Pousnett, 'rash and extravagant,' to join the scapegoat in the blame of having dissipated the 'splendid capital the senior partner's exertions had placed at the disposal of the company.' No, indeed; on the contrary, there were some very sharp rogues on the direction; a secretary who had understood all along the whole enterprise was what be called a 'flam;' accountants who stated that 'when they wanted know' they were told to mind their own business; while various adventurers cropped up in the course of the investigation which ensued who seemed to have got into the train of Mr. Pousnett's last venture, as camp-followers hang about the rear of an invading army.All these people, and many others, when the time came to speak, had small scruple about opening their mouths. They told everything they had to tell, and it turned out they knew a great deal more than Mr. Pousnett imagined. Some of them were at the trouble to rake up the Pousnett (Limited) affair, which, it now began to be whispered, had likewise been a complete swindle.One man, indeed, went so far as to say Pousnetts', for many a day before the company was floated, had been kept up on accommodation paper, and that he could prove it; but he never appeared able to do so, though he managed to retire from London with a nice little independence, which some people said was paid to him quarterly by a gentleman who had good reasons for such generosity.There was a great scandal and a great hubbub for a little time. Actions were threatened, shareholders cursed the name of Pousnett, respectable people in the City shook their heads when the senior partner was mentioned; but it all blew over. A great deal of foreclosing went on for a time about Norman's Bay; but nothing happened to the Pousnett property either there or elsewhere. Mr. Pousnett went abroad for three months; and when he returned, everybody who was anybody called upon and asked him to dinner, and accepted his invitations in return.It could not be denied, however, that after this second collapse of a company formed under Mr. Pousnett's auspices, and apparently solely for his benefit, a reaction in favour of Robert McCullagh took place.People began to say he had not been so much to blame, after all; that no doubt Mr. Pousnett had kept him well under his thumb; that most likely he was merely the cat's-paw used by Mr. Pousnett for getting his chestnuts out of the fire; that, upon the whole, the man had been hardly dealt by; that the Pousnetts, who were all of them now living on the fat of the land, had ruined his prospects and beggared him into the bar gain. 'There is he, poor wretch, in America almost starving, I hear; while his wife and children are just able to keep soul and body together, in a mean lodging near the Lower-road, upon the mother-in-law's annuity,' said one man.'Well, they could not expect to eat their cake and have it,' answered the friend to whom this observation was made.'Faith, I think it was Pousnett who ate up everybody's cake, and is
now comfortably feeding on his own.'CHAPTER XXXVII.
MR. MOSTIN'S NEWS.THOUGH things were not so bad as had been represented in the Robert McCullagh household, they were, after his departure, bad enough. It is not just at the first poverty seems so intolerable a burden. People scarcely understand, and certainly do not fully believe in, it.During the earlier days, a reserve of strength, spirit, and resource remains; but as the weeks and the months go by, strength, spirit, and resource become exhausted.Like the clothing bought in more prosperous days, these good things eventually wear threadbare; and it is at that precise stage, reverse of fortune is regarded as unendurable; people have lost the independence of wealth without gaining the independence of poverty; the habits, ideas, restrictions of a different class press them to the ground. The uses of adversity seem to them all bitter. They have been forced to move in a hurry from one state of life to another, and the excitement being over, the discomfort begins. They cannot find a thing they have been accustomed to regard as necessary. For the time being, life seems a hopeless tangle, and the attempt to make both ends meet an absurd impossibility.Nevertheless, the struggle having to be made, Janey set about it with such courage as she could command; and she was in the middle of a not totally unsuccessful effort to contrive that her outgoings should not exceed her incomings, when Mrs. Lilands became suddenly worse, and then in a moment all her daughter's plans and good intentions were scattered to the wind. Whatever the doctors ordered was got; and Janey found herself sinking into a sea of debt she feared must overwhelm her completely.But this fresh illness did not last long; and without knowing what it was to lack one single material comfort her child's unselfish love was able to procure, Mrs. Lilands passed quietly away.It was then Janey found what Alfred Mostin's intervention

had done for her. She was still to receive the same amount of money. She and her children were not left destitute. There were the debts, but she could manage them; by dint of the closest economy she felt sure they might live, and yet pay every one.This was, then, the task that, in the poor lodging near the Lower-road, she set herself to finish; and it seemed to her, as it has seemed since to many a woman similarly situated, very hard she should be compelled to commence her course of severe retrenchment by putting herself and her four children into mourning.Nevertheless, she did it; and with no visitors save Alfred Mostin and the doctor's sister from Old Ford, set herself patiently to do the best she could in the way of paying off debts and living on what remained, till such time as her husband should be able to write for her and the children to join him.If she sometimes found economy work hard against the collar, Robert ere long discovered that trying to make his fortune in America was a task utterly beyond such powers as he possessed.The very qualities which at Pousnett's had served him to good purpose now proved impediments in his way; and surely though slowly he arrived at the conviction the senior partner had not been mistaken when he implied he lacked cleverness.'And my father always thought so too,' considered Robert bitterly,
'and I believe they were both right.'There is no harder reflection can occur to a man than that others are possessed of a larger share of brains than himself; but in Robert's case the knowledge, late though it came, produced one good result. He did not strive after impossibilities; he tried to think he was contented in a very poor situation. By dint of industry and plodding he had risen before, and he hoped by the same means he might rise again. But the conditions of society are not the same, even in the same countries, at different periods of life, and Robert was forced to confess in his letters home that the prospect did not seem encouraging. He was able to live, and that appeared about all he could do at the present; after a time perhaps things might mend.It could not be considered very satisfactory, yet still Janey did not despond. She taught her children; she took them out o walk; she visited her stanch friend at Old Ford; she delighted to hear Alfred Mostin ask her for a cup of tea, the

most extravagant hospitality she was able to offer. Life did not seem to be sad because she chanced to be poor: it was only the separation from her husband that troubled her; only the uncertainty of a future which, though she had money enough to keep them from actual want, he seemed afraid to ask her to share.Like Robert, however, she thought that perhaps after a time things might mend; and meantime the work allotted her appeared to be to make the best of matters as they were.In the rush and hurry of London life, and in view of the thousand events which had taken place since Pousnett & Co. (Limited) came down with a run, that once notorious failure had grown to be regarded as quite an old story. People remembered, of course, such a smash once took place, but it had long ceased to be a nine days' wonder. Worse things had happened since then; more iniquitous swindles exposed a greater number of innocent shareholders 'let in;' and cleverer men even than Pousnett found to be perfectly safe, so far as their own incomes were concerned.In a word, the enormous capabilities of limited liability were being discovered, and while one section of society was blessing the Act, another was anathematising the day they trusted their good money to its tender mercies.But then of course what benefits Thomas, proves an evil to John! Limited liability is only a practical illustration of the truth of the old proverb which declares 'one man's meat to be another man's poison.'Anyhow, Pousnetts' was an almost forgotten episode in the City of London. At the West-end he who had been the senior partner moved in better society than ever. If people living beyond Charing Cross once began to inquire too curiously as to how some of their charming friends made their money due east they would have enough to do, and as the result could not fail to be other than disagreeable, it is as well that a hard and fast rule seems to have been laid down as to the undesirable nature of too much research of this kind. Stories that had floated round and about Capel-court and the Exchange never reached those charmed circles where the Pousnetts were considered 'delightful.' His daughter held rank as a most amiable and fascinating woman, whose devotion to a husband older than herself was beyond all praise. There was a talk of Pousnett himself standing as member for a borough where Lord Cresham's interest was as paramount as the interest of

lord can be anywhere nowadays in England. Mr. Pousnett's receptions were always mentioned in the Morning Post. Miss Vanderton's husband had scaled successfully many of the heights of clerical promotion. Stanley Pousnett, the only one of the family who proved quite unequal to the dignity of the name he bore, had hidden his diminished head in a remote district of Wales, where Mrs. Stanley owned a small estate. Another company had taken up the Norman's Bay speculation, and property there was now more valuable than ever.Mr. Pousnett had done very well for himself and family, and if other persons had failed to do likewise, the fault was theirs, not his. He could not be held answerable for the non-success of incompetent nincompoops. Every one connected with Pousnetts', except the shareholders, might have acquired a fair income; if any one failed to do so, it was a mere folly to blame the man who had put such a chance in the way of those persons unable to take advantage of it. That was all which could be said about the matter. Meanwhile, the shareholders had lost every penny they invested. Robert McCullagh was in America, and Janey in narrow lodgings, turning her own dresses and mending her children's clothes.One evening Alfred Mostin entered those lodgings, and, while divesting himself of coat and hat, asked, 'Have you heard anything lately about Mr. McCullagh, Janey?'She looked up a little surprised. It was late; the children were in bed at that hour; she had not expected a visitor, and the tone of his question told he had some special reason for putting it.'What is the matter?' she therefore inquired, after the manner of a person who had grown accustomed to bad news.'He is not expected to live.''O, I am grieved.''I don't see why you should be. What good was his life to anybody?'This was one of the points on which she and Mr. Mostin had never agreed, but she did not feel disposed to enter upon a controversy concerning Mr. McCullagh's merits or demerits then.'Has he been ill long?' she asked.'No, not very; it's fever. He either caught a chill at the Docks, or--and this the doctor thinks more probable-caught the infection from some one down there. He came back, complained that he thought he had taken a cold, went to bed, next

morning was delirious, and now is given over; and the whole family is wondering whether he has made a will, and if so, how he has disposed of the "gear."''They are all with him, I suppose?' said Janey, who, though disappointed and hurt by the tenor of Mr. Mostin's utterances, still did not care to take up arms upon the vexed subject.'With him!' repeated Alfred scornfully; 'what should they be with him for, when, whether the man has made a will or not, the thing is past changing now? The doctors have given him over; it's as much as a fellow's life is worth to go into the sick-room, for it is some uncommon and awful sort of fever. So plain auld Rab, spite of all his money, is left to die just as any pauper might; and serve him right too!' added Mr. Mostin under his breath.But Janey heard what he said.'Don't, Alfred! don't, don't, don't!' she cried; 'you cannot think how you hurt me. O, what a dreadful thing for the poor old man!''Why was he so hard with others, then?' persisted Mr. Mostin doggedly. 'Why did he set up money as a god and worship it? why was he so unjust to Bob, and cruel to you? why did he grudge every other man the chance of getting a living? why did he deny himself and everybody about him almost the common necessaries of life? It was all done that he might add pound to pound and hundred to hundred. He will never be sensible enough again to know precisely what his much prized gold did for him, and that is all I feel sorry about. Such men ought to realise that if in their worst extremity they call from morning until noon upon Mammon, as the priests did at Carmel to Baal, they will receive no answer.''Do you really mean to say,' began Janey, ignoring the last expression of opinion, which, indeed, by long experience she knew too well it was vain to combat, 'that Mr. McCullagh has none of his sons with him?''That is precisely what I do mean to say. He has none of his sons or his sons' wives, or Mrs. Nicol, or one of the lot. An old servant stuck to him, I suppose, because she had no choice, and Mrs. Roy, it seems, went in to help; but she has had to give up the attempt, and there is now only that hired woman waiting to see him die.''It is too shocking,' murmured Janey.'To do old Roy justice, he did seem sorry,' went on

Mostin; 'but I suppose he will lose his berth, so that even he was not quite disinterested. He is just another of the same kidney. But look here, Janey, don't you cry; don't, dear. Why in the world should you be troubled, no matter what happens to him?'She did not answer; she only covered her face and sobbed grievously. She had the strongest feeling that, no matter what a father was, his children should cling to and honour him; and deep down in her heart there lay a conviction that, but for adverse circumstances, Mr. McCullagh would have turned out a far different man. She had always been sorry for him, always known that even in the full sunshine of his prosperity he was a lonely man; and now to hear of him ill, dying, attended only by hirelings, his sons merely anxious to hear how he had left his money, without a loving hand to smooth his pillow, and moisten his lips and soothe his death agony, seemed to her so horrible an end of an honest and laborious and unsatisfactory life, she could only tell with her tears how deep was her sympathy.'I think Bob will be cut up,' said Mr. Mostin, when Janey, having dried her eyes, was trying to regain her composure. 'Though he and his father never did stable their horses together, he was the only dutiful member of the family, and I always believed the old man felt proud of him. If he had not been so like his mother, they might have hit it off better; but, as I have told you, she never missed a chance of rubbing her husband the wrong way. She was a fool, and she got a bad set round her. Her father used to say if she had chosen to take the right way with him, she might have led her husband with a silken thread. There I do believe he had good in him, if she had brought it out; and if it vexes you I will never say another word against old Scrooge.''Ah, Alfred!' she softly expostulated; and then added, 'It does vex me, more than words can express.'All that livelong night Janey tossed restlessly. She could not get any settled sleep. She had felt very tired when Alfred Mostin came in; but yet after she lay down, the moment her eyes closed they opened again, and she found herself wide awake, thinking of what was going on in the old house just off Basinghall-street.Mr. McCullagh's face haunted her, his fate pursued her into the dim slumber-land when she touched its confines for a moment. She thought of Robert far away; of her mother

dead; of all the changes which had come and gone since her marriage; of how earnestly she once hoped to reconcile father and son. And now it was all over--the end had come. Already those terrible footsteps, the sound of which those who have once heard their stealthy tread can never forget, seemed at the door; and of poor Mr. McCullagh and his imperfect and unenjoyed life there would remain but the money he could not carry away with him, and his name carved on senseless stone.She rose early the next morning, dressed her children, gave them their breakfast, tried to swallow some herself, and then, asking the landlady to see to her little ones till her return, hurried away Cityward. It was not much after nine when she reached Finsbury, but the streets were full of merchants hurrying to their offices, of clerks bustling along. The morning had broken dull and misty, and gave no promise of brightening up. Janey's spirits were in unison with the weather; everything seemed to her gloomy in the extreme.'Where are ye off to at this hour?' asked some one behind her, as she crossed over London Wall; and turning she beheld David McCullagh.'O, I am so glad to meet you!' she answered. 'I never heard of your father's illness till last night. How is he?''There is not the slightest hope.''I was just on my way to Basinghall-street to inquire him.''Lucky I saw ye, then, unless you are tired of your life. The fever is most catching; we have all been warned of the danger.''I suppose you are now coming from the house?''I?' he repeated. ' What good could I do? He has two nurses, and the doctors, and everything of course money can buy; but it would be madness for me to be with him. I have my wife and children to consider. Fanny at first did want to go, but I told her I wouldn't hear of such nonsense. By the bye, ye've never seen her, have ye?''No, I have never seen her.''She is a " sonsy wee thing," and ye'd like her; when will ye come and take a cup of tea?''I don't know, I am sure, thank you; I have a great deal to do. And then, you know, we shall be going to America, when Robert sends for us.''Maybe it will turn out my father has left him something, though it is not very likely.''No, it is not very likely,' repeated Janey mechanically.'Well, I must bid ye good-morning. When all is over I'll drop ye a line; but be sure ye don't go near the house, unless ye wish to give Robert a chance of soon taking a second wife.'After delivering himself of which jocular and cheering remark, Mr. David McCullagh shook hands with his sister-in-law, who had, he decided, 'gone off terribly,' and walked away in the direction of the Bank.She stood for a minute when he left her, and then all in a hurry, as if distrusting her own resolution, and desirous of putting it beyond recall, she turned sharp along London Wall, and made her way straight into Basinghall-street.The front door of the old house stood wide as usual, and business seemed being attendee to in the office, which Janey entered without ceremony.'Mr. Roy,' she said, walking up to the counting-house, where Mr. McCullagh had been wont to sit. As she spoke, the manager lifted his eyes and looked at the person addressing him.'Presairve us!' he exclaimed , 'it's Mrs. Robert! O mem, and it's a changed and sorrowful house ye've entered.''I never heard a word of the illness till last night, or I should have been here before; and now I have come to nurse him.''Ye don't know what you're saying, Mrs. Robert.''Yes, I do,' she answered. 'I am going to stop here till Mr. McCullagh is better or worse. He won't know me, and if he did it would not matter much.''But it's a deathly fever; the doctors say it is most virulent.''I can't help that; my husband's father sha'n't die without one belonging to him at his side while I am near enough to take my place there.''The children, though, Mrs. Robert--the children?''They will be seen to. Which is the room? Stay, before I go in I want to write a note to Mr. Mostin. Will you send it round to him?''I will. But, dear mem, won't ye take a thought first for yourself?''I have,' she replied; 'I feel sure I am going to do what I ought to do, and for the rest we are in the hands of God.''And may He bring ye safe through the ordeal!' said Mr. Roy solemnly.'Amen,' murmured Janey. Just for a moment the thought of husband and children dimmed her eyes; but the next she was tracing a few lines to Alfred Mostin, which Mr. Roy promised should be despatched to North-street at once; then, removing her shawl and bonnet, and asking Alick to take up-stairs, she left the office, crossed the hall, turned the of the left-hand door, and entered the room where Mr. McCullagh lay.It was done! No use in any one attempting to dissuade her now.She crossed that portion of the apartment which Mr. McCullagh had utilised for his private office, and, passing behind the partition, which did not reach to the ceiling, stood for a second looking at the scene before her.On a small table an elderly woman was arranging some medicine-bottles, glasses, and so forth; while beside the bed there stood two doctors looking attentively at their patient, who lay apparently exhausted, flushed, unshaven, almost unrecognisable.The whole of the furniture was of the poorest and oldest description, the bedclothes were tossed and tumbled, while the bands and arms stretched wearily out over the coverlet were thin and wasted to a degree.Involuntarily Janey moved a step forward, and as she did so one of the medical men turned and beheld her with surprise.She did not hesitate then, but walked up close up beside the couch.'I am the wife of Mr. McCullagh's eldest son,' she said, in a low voice, 'and I have come to nurse your patient. I know there is great danger, but I am not afraid. Tell me what you wish done, and I will try to do it.'In a few words they told her exactly how the case stood. They might call it hopeless; but still while life remained there was a chance, though a poor one. They seemed glad she was come, indeed the elder expressed some regret she had been unable to come before.'I did not know anything of the illness till last night,' she answered.'That poor creature is quite worn out,' said one of the medical men, indicating the woman Janey soon understood be Mr. McCullagh's housekeeper.'Then she had better go and have a few hours' sleep,'

was the prompt reply; 'I can see to everything that is wanted.''I hope to send in an experienced nurse this afternoon.''I am afraid we shall need her.'It was like a dream: without the knowledge or consent of one of Mr. McCullagh's family she had taken the control in his sick-room, and even while she talked in whispers was changing the aspect of the apartment.When her father-in-law moaned and moved his head uneasily, with quick deft hand she moved the pillow, so as to enable him to rest more comfortably.With cool clean handkerchief she wiped the cracked swollen lips, and then moistened them with a refreshing liquid the doctor indicated. Noiselessly she glided about the room, clearing useless articles away-cloths, phials, jugs, plates, basins--all the lumber illness seems ever to collect about it. In ten minutes after the doctors were gone she had everything taken from the apartment which was not actually required; already it seemed more airy.'I wish either that partition was down or that we had the bed on the other side of it,' she sighed; for there was no fireplace in the part Mr. McCullagh had reserved to himself for a bedchamber.She was alone with him now, she had sent the weary housekeeper up-stairs; she had borrowed a cap and an apron, to identify herself more fully with the character of a nurse; she had sprinkled the floor with some disinfectant; she had bathed the palms of his hands, and placed cold cloths upon his forehead; she had made everything as neat and comfortable and clean in the time as was possible, and had just sat down to wait the next attack of delirium, when a knock came to the door, and opening it cautiously, she saw Alfred Mostin.'O, why have you come? what are you doing here? She asked.'I have come to look after you,' he answered; 'I wish I had bitten my tongue out before I told you he was ill. However, that can't be helped now: I shall stop in the house, so as to take my turn in the watching. No, you need not say one word. I promised Bob to take care of you, and I sha'n't stir from my post while you are likely to want assistance.''But the children, Alfred! the children!' cried Janey.'Mrs. Mostin, Bob's step-grandmother, if a woman ever stood in such a relationship, is with them. Don't be afraid;

she will see to them far better than I could have done. And now what do you think of him?''He is very bad indeed,' she answered. 'Look!' and she drew him where he could see the bed.'Poor old chap!' said Alf Mostin, looking almost pitifully, at the recumbent figure, 'I am afraid it is all up with him.'CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ALL MR. M'CULLAGH WANTED.THOSE only who through the night-watches have all alone kept vigil beside the sick are competent to speak of the terrible solitude which broods over the hours of darkness. The professional nurse, the paid attendant, or gratuitous 'sister,' knows nothing of that solemn desolation which enters into the very soul of the woman who honestly remains awake; who neither drops off nor nods, but sits with wide-open eyes, ready at any moment to moisten the parched lips; to smooth the crumpled pillow; to give needful medicine; to touch with the assurance of warm living help the hand flung wildly, restlessly about in search of something it fails to reach; to wipe the clammy forehead and speak tender words, which even if whispered in answer to the ravings of delirium, soothe the restlessness of fever, and lessen the fear and horror of a struggle man happily remembers little concerning, when from the very valley of the shadow he is brought back to life.It was these watches Mr. McCullagh's faithful nurse took upon herself. She had seen enough of illness to be aware it is night which tries the sick and those who are supposed to look after them; that the hardest part of a nurse's duty is compressed into about six hours out of the twenty-four; that although it may be comparatively easy to obtain good help for the ailing or dying during three-fourths of the day, it is next to impossible to find a person who can be trusted to keep awake from midnight till the world begins to stir.Never, never afterwards could Janey bear to speak of those nights when, all alone--for she would have no companion--she listened to Mr. McCullagh's ravings, and fought with death through the minutes and the hours. There is no form of illness so trying as that which produces delirium. Pain, restlessness, irritability, weakness, are each bad enough to contend against; but when everything is said which can be said, there is nothing so terrible as to listen to a person talking who is not in his right mind; to sit beside one whose speech is wandering though

his body is still, who utters no connected sentence, who can understand no sensible word, but who keeps on groping and muttering through the treasure-house of the past; at each instant turning over some perfectly worthless memory, toiling over roads long left behind, recalling people dead and gone years and years before, babbling concerning events that had better have been permitted to lie at the very bottom of the waters of oblivion.In all the revelations Mr. McCullagh made, there was no sin or shame. Amid all the useless rags he turned over in the past, none he need have dreaded being seen of men was exposed to view. Nevertheless, the experiences Janey listened to were, as a rule, petty; the objects unconsciously revealed seemed to her mean and petty, the aims low, the motives sordid. Nothing great, or lofty, or pathetic, or grand, broke the terrible monotony of these dreadful nights. Now he was a small boy wading in the 'tide' at Greenock; again he was in Arran, walking with some ' lassie' with 'lint white locks' he had much to say concerning; sometimes the troubles of his married life came upper-most; but as a rule his worst and most constant ravings were about Robert and Pousnett and herself.For the first time she really understood the length and breadth of the dislike Mr. McCullagh had conceived for her. Through all the broken sentences, the almost incoherent talk, the wild ravings, and the weak murmurs of prostration, that one theme was clearly recognisable. She heard herself derided misjudged, calumniated; found how truly the sufferer believed she 'had parted him and his son,' who would 'have come to like his old father some day.'It was more than she had bargained for, this frank exposition of her own shortcomings and imaginary iniquities, this unreserved statement of a hatred which it seemed to her nature impossible she could feel towards any one; and it would be idle to deny that, worn and sorrowful as she was, the iron entered into her very soul. Some day it might even be Robert himself would come to think she had destroyed his prospects; for Mr. McCullagh talked at intervals much about his money, and declared, till she grew weary of the iteration, that not one penny of it should go to Robert, or Robert's children.Hour by hour her task seemed to grow heavier, her burden more intolerable; yet still it was with the tenderest devotion, the sweetest patience, she kept on at her post. If she had been his own daughter she could not have done more to try to

lessen his sufferings. Nothing love could suggest, or thoughtfulness supply, did she permit him to lack; the thousand little luxuries those who have money, or the command of money, can obtain to soothe the agonies of bodily sickness, she begged Mr. Roy to procure--each, perhaps, but a trifle, in the aggregate not of much account, yet tending to make that awful period when the body lay stretched on the rack of pain, and the mind was wandering hither and thither like a troubled spirit, restlessly looking back over the events of time, while pacing with trembling fear the shore of eternity, somewhat more bearable.He hung thus for days, growing weaker and weaker; but the fever did not increase, there seemed a pause in the progress of the disease. It was as a fire might be, stayed, though not quenched; but still the doctors held out no hope, and it was the fifth night Janey had kept watch.One of the medical men, who came in late, warned her that another crisis was at hand, and probably the next morning would terminate the suspense. A great chilliness had supervened upon the dull close weather of the last fortnight. Already Death seemed to have walked into the sick-chamber, bringing with it a sensation of icy cold.They had managed to get Mr. McCullagh into the larger half of the room, preparing another bed, and lifting his light weight in the sheets; and now she made up a good fire, and, screening the blaze from his eyes, sat down beside him to wait for the end.He was not delirious now; he lay still, deep sunk in sleep or stupor. She could scarcely catch the sound of his breathing; occasionally she bent over the bed, to make sure he had not died and made no sign; occasionally there was a little gasping moan, a sort of strangled sobbing sound, as though breath was failing him. The silence after the babble of delirium seemed terrible: when it grew unendurable she rose softly, and walking to the end of the room where he formerly slept, lifted the blind and looked out into the court. High above, the stars were shining brightly; the gaslight burned steadily; the flagstones looked dry and white, as though there were frost in the air. It was the coldest time of all the night--the hour before dawn, when it is said so many die; though this statement, like many others in connection with illness, is open to question. An indescribable sadness fell over her spirits: when next she looked up at the sky, where would the man she had perilled her own life to try to save have gone? Personally she

did not now hope that he would recover; it seemed to her impossible any human being should walk so far into the loneliness of the darksome valley as he had done, and yet return from death. How could she write and tell Robert that on earth he and his father would never meet more? that without a sign or message he had passed into the vast eternity? with what words should she try to give him comfort, and say that, although unconscious, the old man had not been left alone--that she was with him when he died, that she touched the rigid hand, and knelt by his bedside, and had prayed for him, unable at that supreme moment to utter prayer or supplication for himself?The weary time dragged on: day began to break, there were streaks of light in the sky, the fire was burning dimly, and once more she made it up, picking out the coal with thin nervous fingers, that no noise might break the stillness. She bent over him again; his breathing was lower than ever, but less painful; the moaning had ceased, that gasping sobbing she did not hear. He lay quiet, as though dead; in his coffin he would scarcely give less sign of life. Yes, the end must be very near. For the first time a great terror seemed to seize her. Should she summon help? It appeared awful to stand alone face to face with death, to see depart into the dim mysterious land, where human footsteps may not follow, from out of which no voice can be heard, one who had not at the supreme moment a single friend near him save the woman he disliked, whose faults had been ceaselessly on his lips during the whole of his terrible illness, and whom she thought mournfully he 'can now never, never understand.'She moved to the door, and then paused irresolute; it would be cruel to awaken the sleepers when they could do no good. Time enough when it was all over, when her part was finished, and the still heart could no longer misjudge or the cold lips blame. She returned to her post. He was still lying in the same position; she extinguished the night-lamp, and opening the shutters, let in a gleam or two of the glory of the coming day.She had not seen the sun since she entered the house; but now, through the opening portals of the dawn, appeared rays--golden, purple, crimson-bright heralds of his approaching advent.She looked at the sky and marvelled where he, who now lay so quiet, would be when another morning broke. Slowly the minutes passed and the light grew stronger, and the sun arose in his majesty and shone down upon the awakening city.

In the house there were sounds as if some one were stirring. Then, after all, when the end came, she need not be quite alone; and yet now it seemed to her she would prefer hearing the last sigh, seeing the last tremor, without the presence of another human being breaking in upon the awful solitude.She did not feel afraid then; the wave of mortal terror had swept by and left her calm. There came a gentle tap on the panel of the door; when she turned the handle she found it was the housekeeper with a cup of tea.She went out into the hall and drank it eagerly.'How is he?' asked the woman.'Very bad indeed, I am afraid,' was the answer; 'he has not uttered a sound for a long time-just lain like one already dead.''Poor dear!' said the housekeeper. Ah, it was nigh upon sixty years since any one called Mr. McCullagh a 'poor dear' before.After a time one of the doctors came. He did not speak, but looked inquiringly at Janey, who shook her head. He crossed the room and stood beside the bed, looking at the patient; then he slipped his hand underneath the sheet and felt the feeble flickering pulse.'When did this change take place?' he asked, moving to the hearth and speaking in a whisper.'He ceased moaning about three,' Janey replied, 'and has not stirred or moved since.''I will stop a little while,' said the doctor; and he laid down his hat and gloves, and cast himself into the easy-chair Robert had bought for his father when first admitted into Pousnetts'.'Do you think--' she began, and stopped, afraid to finish her question.'I think there is a chance for him--stay, stay, don't break down now;' but already she had left the room, and in an upper chamber was on her knees, thanking God for His great mercy vouchsafed, and imploring Him to give her this life, for which she had literally wrestled with death.Back from the very valley of darkness, as it seemed to mortal eyes, the man came slowly, lingeringly. If the illness had been bad, the recovery seemed almost worse: with feeble halting steps he returned so slowly, that hour by hour no progress seemed to be made, and it was only by looking back from the vantage-ground of days any real progress could be noticed.Once, however, he had got what Mr. Roy tersely called 'the turn,' it was wonderful to see how anxious his children grew concerning his recovery.All fear of infection seemed forgotten, or else, in the more burning question of whether he might not think himself neglected, that fear became of secondary importance.First came David and Archie, then David's wife, and Archie's too; fast as the express could bring him Kenneth travelled to London after receiving a telegram stating their father was 'on the mend, and Robert's wife had been nursing him.'This fact, of which, till David called at the house, they were all in total ignorance, stirred the family as with the sound of a trumpet. Janey in the very citadel; Janey by their father's bedside; Janey giving him his medicine; Janey feeding him like an infant; Janey and Alfred Mostin, the very two most dangerous people in the whole wide world! It was time indeed, Kenneth felt, he should take train. He had never expected to have to do so except for the funeral; but this matter was more pressing. Who knew what work had been on hand? who could ever give a guess as to how she might have been poisoning the old man's mind, 'maybe even making away with papers?' thought Mr. Johnston's son-in-law, in an agony of apprehension.Upon this point, however, David speedily reassured him.'When the doctors said it was fever,' he explained, 'old Roy said he took it upon him to lock up every receptacle, as what with one and another being in and out, and having liberty through the house, he could not tell what might happen.''There's no harm done yet,' finished David significantly. 'She's dressed like any other nurse; and if she wasn't, I think he is too bad and weak, and has been too far through, to dwell much upon one more nor another; but some of us ought to be there now. He should not be left; it's dangerous.'No lack of nurses then, whatever there might have been in the earlier stages of that terrible fever. Had the week held fourteen nights, Mr. McCullagh would not have lacked a watcher for one of them. In the opinion of his sons, no beef-tea could be too strong, or eggs too new laid, or grapes too dear, or luxury too expensive for their father. One vied with another as to which should think of fresh delicacies likely to give him strength. Mrs. David, and Mrs. Archie, and Mrs. Kenneth were all on the spot-even Mrs. Nicol's services came into request; and if Mr. McCullagh had wanted his

position changed sixty times in the hour, there would have been willing hands ready to serve his whim.But Mr. McCullagh wanted nothing of the sort; the things he desired were precisely those he could not get--peace and quietness and the sight of a face which had vanished from out the house. At first he made two or three feeble efforts to compass his wishes; he professed often and often that he thought he could 'drop over,' when nothing was further from his feelings than sleep; and he tried to get back his former attendant by asking,'Where's the woman used to sit wi' me in the night?'But it was all of no use. With one accord the household professed a total inability to imagine what woman he meant. 'Was it the servant, or Mrs. Roy, or the nurse the doctor recommended?' 'No, he was sure it was none of them.''Well, ye mind ye were delirious most part of your time,' said Kenneth; while as for Mrs. Kenneth, 'all the arts of man,' as poor Mr. McCullagh said subsequently, would not have kept her out of his room.'If I can't get better soon I'll go mad,' he observed to Mr. Roy; and, acting on this conviction, he set himself to work to regain his health with something of the old persistency that had won his fortune.When he was able at last to sit up, and after a little while longer walk about his room, he said one day to Kenneth,'If ye think it needful ye can stay a while longer with me yourself, but I wish ye'd send your wife home. She means well, I've no doubt, and I'll be glad to see her when I am strong and hearty; but I tell ye plainly I find her a bit too much for me now.''I told you how it would be,' remarked Kenneth to the gushing lady, when he repeated this observation. 'Why can't you keep quiet, and not make a fool of yourself? Ye might have been of use at such a time if you had owned any sense.'Which was extremely disagreeable on the part of Kenneth, since he himself had encouraged those 'silly ways,' Mr. McCullagh's soul abhorred.Kenneth had not been long on guard alone, a proud distinction which wearied him to death, before Mr. McCullagh began to show very palpably that his presence also could be dispensed with,He made Mr. Roy bring the books into his private room, once more transformed into an office; and they had long con-

fabulations, to which Kenneth was not admitted, and consulations in which he had no share.'If you can do without me, father,' he said one day, 'I'd like to take a run down home to see how things are going on. I'll come up again almost immediately.''I can do without ye well enough,' agreed Mr. McCullagh readily--far, far too readily.'David '11 look round often while I'm away.''I am very sure he will. Don't make yourself uneasy about me.'Whether Kenneth followed this excellent advice or not is doubtful; but, at all events, he went. And he had not been what Mr. McCullagh styled 'off the premises' two hours before that gentleman sent a note to Alfred Mostin's chambers, asking him to come round and see him.To which Mr. Alfred Mostin returned a verbal answer that he could not come.Mr. McCullagh then wrote another note, signifying that he must. Mr. Mostin returned a second verbal message which was exceedingly plain and simple in its brevity:'Tell him that I won't.'In high dudgeon, Mr. McCullagh sent for a cab, and, accompanied by Alick, set out for North-street.There he found Mr. Mostin gloomily seated behind his desk.'There wasn't one of them would tell me what I wanted to know,' began Mr. McCullagh, 'so I've come to ye. It was Robert's wife nursed me, wasn't it?''Yes.''And I saw you too, didn't I?''Yes.''I want ye to bring her to me.''I can't.''Why can't ye?''She wouldn't come if I asked her.''Then will ye take me to her?''I don't think you are strong enough.''I am well as ever I was.''And you won't blame me, if you see what you don't like?''No, man; I won't blame ye, whatever it is.''Why, you are shaking in anticipation. Shall I send out for some wine, or you will take a drop of whisky?''I'll take nothing,' answered Mr. McCullagh decidedly. 'All I need is to see Robert's wife.''Then come along,' said Mr. Mostin; and he took his hat.CHAPTER XXXIX.
ROBERT'S WIFE.WHEN they entered, she was sitting on a low chair before the fire. For a moment she looked round listlessly; then, without speaking,--she turned her gaze from them towards the smouldering embers once more.Her features were pinched and drawn; her cheeks white and sunken; her black dress literally hung upon her wasted figure. Mr. McCullagh glanced at Alfred Mostin in despairing interrogation, but meeting with no response, drew a chair close beside his daughter-in-law, and would have taken her hand had she not drawn it slowly away.'I'm sorry to see ye not looking very well, Jean,' he began. 'Have ye been ill?''No, I have not been ill.''What's the matter? have ye heard bad news of Robert?'She shook her head.'What is it, then? Tell me; maybe I can help ye.'She did not answer; she only covered her face with her hands and rocked herself backwards and forwards.'Janey,' broke in Mr. Mostin at this juncture, 'shall I let him know what has happened?'Mr. McCullagh waited breathlessly, and then through the room there rang out an exceeding bitter cry:'O, my child, my child, my child!''Her child was buried yesterday,' explained Mr. Mostin, and he turned his head aside.'Which o' them? for the Lord's sake, which?''Annie, Annie; my little Annie!' and as if some barrier had suddenly been broken down, the bereaved mother burst into passionate and uncontrollable weeping.'That is better,' said Alfred Mostin huskily. 'I have been wanting her to cry. Ever since the little one died she has not shed a tear till now.'There ensued a silence broken only by Janey's convulsive sobbing. Twice Mr. McCullagh timidly stretched out his

hand to lay it on her shoulder, and twice he drew it back, appalled by the extremity of her grief. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again for lack of any word that should seem other than a mockery of her anguish.'You have seen what you asked to see; you have heard what you wanted to know'--it was Alfred Mostin who said this, addressing Mr. McCullagh: 'as there is nothing you can do here, don't you think you had better go back to Basinghall-street?''If I could be any comfort,' hesitated Robert's father.'That is precisely what you cannot be. Come, Mr. McCullagh, you had better let well alone. The sight of you has broken the ice, and that is more than I expected. Leave her to mourn her child as she was left to bear other burdens--alone.'Mr. Alfred Mostin had not a pleasant way of putting things, but there was such an undeniable amount of sense in his suggestion that Mr. McCullagh rose, and saying, 'Good-bye just now, Jean; I'll soon be seeing ye again,' rose and left the room.When he reached the foot of the stairs he turned to Mr. Mostin, and asked if there was any place where he could speak to  him. For answer, that gentleman unceremoniously pushed open the door of a small parlour, which chanced at that moment to be empty, and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, said gloomily,'Now, what is it?'Mr. McCullagh looked up at him with an air both of surprise and doubt, but, making no comment upon the strangeness of his manner, asked,'Will ye tell me what it was wee Annie died of?''Fever,' was the laconic answer.'You don't mean--''Yes, I do; the mother came back too soon, and the child caught it. She got better of the fever, but she had not strength to live. She lingered a while, and died on Sunday.''Why wasn't I told?''Why should you have been told, when, in a civil sort way, your sons showed Robert's wife the sooner she left your house the better; when night and day your own tongue never ceased reviling the woman who was spending her health, jeopardising her life for you? This minute you would not standing opposite to me, if she had not gone to you when no relation or friend but fled from your side in terror. Long

before now your sons would have been wrangling over the money they implied she wanted, if Robert's wife had not nursed and tended you as a mother might her infant.'Like one suddenly stricken Mr. McCullagh stood dumb.'She has been cruelly, mercilessly used among you,' went on Alfred Mostin, in his passion careless of how hard he hit. 'It was a black day for her that on which she first saw your son, and a blacker when she married into a family that, having neither nobility of nature nor generosity of heart, cannot understand the possession of such traits in anybody else. It has all fallen out as I expected. I advised her to have nothing to do with any one of you; and now you have broken her heart and killed her child, and--''Stop!' said Mr. McCullagh, and there was pathos and even dignity in his trembling voice and uplifted right hand. 'If I have been wrong, I am not answerable to you; if I have erred, it is not to you I must humble myself. Wait here for me a minute; don't come between us till I have said my say.''All right,' agreed Mr. Mostin: 'if you can say anything to undo what you have done, I'll wait here for a week.'With his noiseless gliding step Mr. McCullagh walked to the door: when he reached it he turned, and, looking steadily at his enemy, said, 'I'm obliged to ye,' and walked straight up-stairs.His daughter-in-law was still seated before the fire, but, in the abandonment of her grief, she had flung one arm over the back of her chair, and with weary, weary head resting against her shoulder, was sobbing as though her very heart would break.There was no hesitation or incertitude about Mr. McCullagh now. Crossing the room, he took up his position beside the chimneypiece, and began,'Jean, lift up your face for a minute.'She did not answer verbally, only shook her head in dissent.'I want to speak to ye; I have something I must say.'She made a dumb gesture, signifying she could hear, though she was unable to check her sobs.'Do ye mind when your mother was taken ill?'Her head moved slightly.'She was a good mother, and a kind, I make small doubt; anyhow she was fond of ye.'As the wind brings sometimes a torrent of rain, so this appeal to a fresh emotion produced a gust of fiercer weeping.'And I want to ask ye, as a reasonable woman, which I don't think ye are in a state to be considered at this minute, if, after--after she--that is, I mean when she wasn't altogether what she once had been-she had said things ye thought a trifle unfair and cruel, would ye have judged them the utterances of her natural mind, or thought to yourself, "It is the disease as is talking, not my mother"?'There was a lull for an instant; then Janey, burying her face more resolutely, wept tears that seemed wrung from the very depths of her soul.'Well, and though I am not your mother,' proceeded Mr. McCullagh after a slight pause, 'I ask ye to judge me no harder than ye would her. If, when I was sick, I said bitter things about ye--and I'm told I did--it was not me, but the fever. I don't believe any of the poor creatures mentioned in the Scriptures were ever possessed by worse devils than those that tore and tortured me. It was they spoke, Jeanie, not your husband's father, that ye watched beside like an angel from heaven; on my soul and conscience it was they! Look up, Jeanie, look up; and for the Lord's sake say ye know I am not telling ye a lee.'She did look up; she lifted a face changed with weeping, stained with tears, and she said something in a broken gasping whisper, he made out to be he had always hated her, and it was hard, hard, for she had from the very first wanted to be friends with him.'And if I was wrong once, ay, if I was wrong for years--and I freely confess I was--is that any reason I should go on being wrong for ever? If ye'll let me be your friend now, I'll try to make atonement; there's my hand on it. What, ye won't take it? and yet many's the night, when I lay swinging out into eternity, I felt your hand laid on mine, and knew there was virtue in it.''But you would not speak to--her! Do you remember that morning in Guildford-street, when she had on her pretty new bonnet, and--'She could not go on; again she hid her face, and her tears flowed like water.'I do mind,' he said, and he also kept silence.'Jean'--it was a few seconds before he spoke again, and then a suspicious tremor shook his voice-' Jean, did she want for any single thing?''No; I'd have gone out and begged sooner.''If I'd known--if I had but known! Woman, woman, why didn't ye send to me? money might have saved her.''Nothing could have saved her, after--once I-had-brought-home--death--to her--as I might--a toy.''God help ye, Jean! God help us both, for that matter!'There ensued a long pause, during which Janey wept quietly, and Mr. McCullagh stood looking mournfully upon a sorrow he was impotent to soothe.'Ye'll do yourself a hurt, I am much afraid,' he said at last.'Try not to take on as ye're doing. Think of your husband--of Robert, ye mind.'He could not have offered any suggestion less likely to comfort her. In a torrent her grief again broke bounds; in an agony she moaned and rocked herself backwards and forwards.'And O,' this was the burden of that wailing lament, 'when he comes back and asks me for his little Annie, what am I to tell him?''Tell him,' answered Mr. McCullagh, 'that she is gone to One who will take better care of her than ever we could. Don't greet like that; it just rends my heart. Is there nothing will comfort ye? Ailfred, Ailfred,' he cried, running out on the landing, 'come up and see if ye can do anything with her. Can't ye think of some word to ease her grief?''Yes,' said Mr. Mostin, I know now what to say. If you go, I will talk to her.''Ye'll no try to set her against me, Ailfred,' pleaded Mr. McCullagh, standing at the 'stairhead.''I will not try to set her against you,' answered Mr. Mostin. To judge from the expression of his face, he was going to add some disagreeable reason for this promised abstinence, but he refrained.'I think I'll wait below till I hear how she is,' suggested Mr. McCullagh.'No, don't do that; if you like, I will call round this evening and let you know.''I would take it very kind of ye,' said Mr. McCullagh meekly; and he added subsequently, though not then, he had also taken it very kind of Ailfred to run down the stair after him and call the cabman, who was waiting a little distance off, and help him into the vehicle and bang the door, telling him at the same time not to be fretting about Janey.'She will do now,' finished the ne'er-do-weel. 'I'll see to her.'As the cab rattled down the City-road, deep and bitter were the thoughts which coursed through the mind of the man had stood, not two months previously, knocking at the very door of death.The loss of the child, his son's only daughter; the memory of that sunny morning in Guildford-street, when, framed in 'pretty new bonnet,' he saw the 'bonnie wee face' and pass it by; the mother's wild grief, 'the like of which he had never witnessed before;' the 'lady way she had with her' even in the midst of her trouble; the words Alfred Mostin had spoken each one of these things, and fifty more that came crowding upon his memory, pierced his heart like the stab of a dagger.His sons and his sons' wives, and even Mr. and Mrs. Nicol, had seemed right glad to welcome him back to life and health. He could not think--it would be wicked for him to think--anybody in the wide world would have been wishful for him to die; but still, if he had died--if he had--they would have got over it by now, as he himself might the death of another; and they would have been parting his money and considering about carrying on the business; and rich as he was, well as he stood in the City, highly as he knew himself to be respected, the waters of oblivion would have closed over him long before they lay still and waveless above the memory of a 'bit child whose father was a bankrupt, and whose grandmother had been little better nor a madwoman.''And not one of them would have "let on" to me about Jean, if they could have helped it. They pretended not to know who I was talking about when I spoke of the woman with the quiet ways and the soft kind hands; and if it had not been for my own forbye power o' memory, and Mr. Roy, whom they cautioned not to say a word about her, for fear I might be vexed, I'd have gone to my grave the next time without even a chance of thanking her for saving me from it this. I'll no say they're altogether to blame, for it's their nature; but where do they get it? The mother was just one separate in the way of thinking of herself, to be sure; but the old man, though he couldn't keep two sixpences in his pocket, had kind ways with him. And Robert wasn't so bad-hearted, either; and Ailfred, if he did not drink and could see the beauty and holiness of commercial honesty, is a man something might be made of; he has been good to Robert's wife, and he was not bad to me. I never thought to be beholden to him for lifting me about on a sick-bed. Where do they get it?' reverting to the question of

the mercenary disposition of his other children. 'I wonder if it's from me? Maybe they've inherited the hard bit without the soft tender spot auld Rab knows is in him.'As delicately as he could, the same evening he insinuated this question to Alfred Mostin, over a 'tumbler;' but Mr. Mostin, though drinking at his host's expense the very best 'Scotch' that ever came across the Border, was in no mood for complimentary or diplomatic utterances. He felt very angry about the way Robert's wife had been treated, and his grief for the death of the child was keen and new. He refused utterly to say a good word for any one of the Basinghall-street faction.'If you want that,' he said, 'you must go to the woman they sent out to carry the infection of your illness home. I have not the gifts of charity and forgiveness, but she has. She could find some merit even in Kenneth, I've no doubt.''I have been considering,' ventured Mr. McCullagh, after the pause which succeeded this utterance,' that I'd like her weel to come and stop here with the children--altogether, ye understand. D'ye think she'd do it?''Not just now. Give her time, and she might.''Would ye sound her on the matter?''No; you had better speak yourself.''Ye wouldn't stop her, would ye, Ailfred? I can see she sets great store by what ye say.''You may be sure I won't stop her doing any one thing that is for her good.''And ye think what I propose would be?''I am sure of it.''When would ye have me ask her?''I will tell you after a while.''Don't let it be too long first.''No longer than seems wise;' spite of which assurance, weeks passed and he made no sign. To all Mr. McCullagh's remonstrances he returned short and evasive answers, and that gentleman was thinking seriously of taking the matter into his own hands, and relying solely on his own judgment, as 'I ought to have done from the first,' when one day Alfred met him at the door of Janey's lodgings, and said,'You can ask her now, if you like.'An opportunity soon presented itself. Janey, calm and restored to something vaguely resembling the woman who had that morning, which seemed so long and long before, met David

McCullagh at the corer of London Wall, was saying next time Mr. McCullagh came he would most probably see the boys.'I mean to have them home at last,' she added. 'I am sure I shall never know how to thank Mrs. Mostin sufficiently for having taken charge of them at her house for such a time.''But ye're never surely going to bring them back here!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh.'Why not?' she asked. 'There is not the slightest danger now; and I could not get such a cheap place, perhaps, anywhere else. Besides--''Besides what?' inquired Mr. McCullagh.'The mistress of the house was always so good to Annie, and so kind to me when--I lost her.'Then outspoke Mr. McCullagh:'I tell ye, Jean, what I've had in my mind for weeks past, only Ailfred there told me it was no use asking ye till the first of the fret was over. Come to me. There's a big house standing empty; there's fine playroom there for the children, and they'll not be in anybody's way. I'll be real glad to have ye all. Will ye come? Will ye forgive and forget, and be friends with an old man, who isn't too proud to own he was wrong? She's looking at you, Ailfred; for once speak up in my favour.'Janey turned to Mr. McCullagh as he uttered the last sentence, and then again to Alfred, wistfully.'What do you say?' she asked.'That you ought to accept Mr. McCullagh's offer, as freely as it is made. While Robert is away, the best place for you and the children is his father's house.''Weel said, Ailfred; that's right weel spoken!' cried Mr. McCullagh, with exultation.She put out her hand shyly, yet trustfully, as she said,'If I go to your house, you won't misunderstand me again?''Never, Jean, never; ye may rely on that;' and he pressed her hand between both of his.She stooped down and kissed his left, which lay uppermost.'Hoots, girl!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh, scandalised, 'don't kiss my hand! It is a pairfect waste of a good thing.'Alfred Mostin burst out laughing. If his life had depended upon his gravity, he could not have done otherwise. That laugh settled the matter; it was like sunshine after rain, brightness after gloom.In five minutes everything was arranged, and by him. The boys should not return to the Lower-road. He himself would

bring them to Basinghall-street. If Mr. McCullagh liked, he could fetch Janey.Mr. McCullagh thought he would like to fetch her very much, and anxiously inquired when he might do so. There ensued a little talk and hesitation; but finally the day but one following was decided on.''I would rather not come till the evening,' said Janey; 'and then I can get the children soon off to bed.''Well, so long as ye come, have it your own way,' agreed Mr. McCullagh. 'Name the time, and I'll be here punctual.''Six, then,' she answered promptly; and accordingly at six on the day appointed she bade her landlady good-bye, stepped into a cab, and, accompanied by her father-in-law, drove off to her new home.'Ye know where everything is in the house, Jean, I think,' said Mr. McCullagh; 'and if ye find aught wanting, ask for it.' Then, to be 'out of the road,' he bade her good-night; and, walking into his own room, left her with Alfred Mostin and the boys.CHAPTER XL.
CONCLUSION.IT was not without some misgivings that the next morning Mr. McCullagh ascended to the common sitting-room. He had done what he considered a mere act of right and justice. To Janey he knew he owed his life, and he was quite prepared to do what he could for her in return. Nevertheless it would be idle to deny that he looked forward with dread to the presence at meals of three well-grown healthy lads. By bitter experience he knew what the breakfast-table at Mrs. Kenneth's resembled and felt little doubt that, though a 'beyond the common' sensible woman, Mrs. Robert would be as 'great a fool' about her young ones as the wife of his second son.To his amazement, however, he found no 'young ones' present; and his glance wandering to the table, he saw the cloth was laid only for two.'Where are the children?' he asked, not even answering his daughter-in-law's 'good-morning.''They had their breakfast an hour ago,' she answered. 'Your life,' she went on, smiling,' shall not be made a weariness by them. If they often tire me out, who am their mother, what would their constant presence be to you?''O, they wouldn't hurt me,' answered Mr. McCullagh; but still he sat down to table relieved. Never had his rasher tasted better, or his tea been 'more to his mind.' Things were beginning well, he thought. If only Janey had not been dressed in black, and her face white and peaky! But she tried her best, poor soul; she strove hard to remember that though little Annie was with her mother no longer on earth, she had gone to a Father in heaven, who, though all Mystery, is all Love and in work, hard constant work, she soon began to find that comfort, God intended it should bring to the loneliest man or woman He ever saw fit to visit with all His storms.In the telling, all this may seem a poor and pitiful record yet it is really the story of a grand and beautiful life. Small things added up make a great total. At the end even of one

short week, looking round upon the changes effected in his life, Mr. McCullagh wondered he had been able to live so long without a woman who, spite of her sad face, seemed to bring sunshine with her.From out her boxes she produced first one thing and then another, which changed utterly, yet by almost imperceptible degrees, the aspect of that dreary sitting-room. She did not trouble Mr. McCullagh as to what he liked or disliked; yet by some curious chance, as he at first thought it, each day saw upon his table the special dish for which he had a fancy. His linen was laid out, a delicate attention which even Janet had not affected; his slippers were put to warm; there was a hole in the pocket of his office-coat he had meant to ask her to get mended, but when he next thrust his hands into its depths it had been repaired; the children were kept out of his way; the kettle and 'materials' each evening were placed in his room.In the midst of this silent consideration, Mr. McCullagh stood like one dazed. He could not quite understand it at first. Never in all his life before had he been so treated. His wife had neglected him altogether; and Janet, when she did attend to his wants, did so with a flourish of trumpets which sometimes almost made him wish she would leave him alone.'I'm thinking I'll have to pay for it all, though, and sharp,' thought Mr. McCullagh; and he looked forward to Monday morning with a feeling both of curiosity and dread.Since Janet's departure he had not catered much for the house himself, little catering, indeed, being required; but at the end of each seven days the 'books' were brought to him for checking and settlement, and woe betide the baker who was out a farthing in his addition or the milkman who unrighteously charged for an extra halfpennyworth of milk!Now, however, he was prepared to see wonders, and he did. The total of the housekeeping did not exceed the usual moderate amount 'What the de'il!' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh to himself; but he said nothing that week; he waited to see what would happen next.The same thing occurred again; and then all in a hurry he sought Janey, and asked her what she was doing, how the children, to say nothing of herself, were being fed.'Why,' she answered, with a swift colour mantling in her cheeks, 'as you were so very good as to let us stay in this

dear old house--and, O, you can't think how pleasant it for us to be here after those close lodgings--I am not going to encroach on your kindness. I am quite rich, now I have not to pay each week for our rooms.''Now, just mind this,' he said. 'Never you do a thing like that again while the same roof covers us. I'm no so within a pound or two that I need grudge my grandchildren bite and sup. I didn't ask ye here to let ye board yourselves, and I'm sore vexed ye should have done it.'They had a little talk and argument after this; but it ended in Mr. McCullagh having his own way.'Best take the house while ye're in it,' he said recklessly, 'and do the best ye can with it; I'm no uneasy that ye'll ruin me. But three healthy children can't be brought up for nothing; though, indeed, I do think it would be worth your while to try and get them to eat porridge of a morning. It is the finest food out for young ones to grow fat and strong on.''They have porridge,' answered Janey, 'every morning of their lives.'And so the days slipped by, and Mr. McCullagh, watching that quiet figure flitting about the house, careful, busy, thoughtful, could but wonder at his own former blindness, and feel thankful the mists of prejudice had at length cleared away, and he could see his son's wife as she really was.No woman who had not been genuinely and utterly unselfish could have effected the total though silent revolution Janey did within a very few months, not only in Mr. McCullagh's house, but in Mr. McCullagh himself.The economy was as close as ever; but it had changed its' character. No longer sordid and mean, it merely told of someone at the head of affairs anxious to do the strictest duty by the man who had befriended her, who, even if she thought--and she often did think--his ideas narrow and his mania for saving unnecessary, still felt that in another person's house she was bound to forget her own notions and consider his.With all his faults, Mr. McCullagh was a man on whom consideration had never been thrown away, and not to be behindhand with his daughter-in-law in generosity, he would occasionally amaze her with, 'If ye don't like the tea brewing so long, make it your way, Jeanie;' or 'Ye haven't been used to such poor fires, and your health is none of the best; never mind a lump or two. Wait, I'll do it to my own notion. I daresay when the end of the year comes, the extra cost won't

break me.' ' I'm thinking I'll no call ye Jean any more, but Brownie.''Why Brownie?' asked Janey.'Ye know what a brownie is? Well, ye remember they do everything about a house, and are never seen doing it: that's your way. I'm sure I never credited a woman could get through as much and make as little work about it.'That Mr. McCullagh's reconciliation to his eldest son's wife should cause a great commotion amongst the rest of the connection is a matter which goes almost without saying.'She has got on the blind side of the old man at last,' observed Kenneth bitterly.'She knows the length of his foot,' remarked Mrs. Nicol. 'I'd never have believed he could have let himself be taken in by such as she; but it's no concern of mine, thank goodness I Maybe he'll find her out, after all.'So amongst the whole of the clan, chatter concerning Janey ran round. If she had known what was said, it might have cost her some tears; but, for the matter of that, if any one of us heard even the one half of the evil our dearest friends speak about us, life would scarce be bearable.'I wonder, I just do,' observed Mrs. Kenneth, 'that you let papa call you Jean.''Why should he not?' asked Mrs. Robert, in some surprise.'It's so low: it sounds like as if you were some poor girl out of a cabin.''I love the name,' answered Janey quietly; and, indeed, she had cause to do so; for it sounded like sweet music in her ears to hear her father-in-law calling 'Jean, Jeanie,' over the house.'Where's Jean?' 'I want a word wi' ye, Jeanie.'He did not now remain shut up in his own room in the evenings. He read his paper and drank his toddy in the apartment that once looked so cold and cheerless; while Janey's busy fingers shaped some garment for the children, or swiftly stitched away at a piece of needful household work. It was a sort of companionship grateful beyond belief to a man of Mr. McCullagh's temperament. She was society, yet he need not talk to her if he did not feel inclined. He felt free to speak or to remain silent; and when he lifted his eyes, and looked across at her, she met his gaze with an ever-ready smile,

or some little word that, though it broke the stillness, did not disturb the repose.But still there were things about Robert's wife that did not quite satisfy Robert's father. In his own way, Mr. McCullagh was a martyr to a spirit of insatiable curiosity; and if ever he took what he called 'a conceit into his head,' he knew no rest till by hook or by crook he got it out again.Now when he asked Janey to bring the children to Basinghall-street, he did it under the firm impression she was 'next door to starving;' that 'whatever amount of money Robert had managed to leave behind him was running dry;' and that if he did not take pity on her, she and hers would have to come on the parish.It may accordingly be imagined that when he found she was 'no without a sixpence,' he felt greatly exercised in his mind.Robert must have had money laid by. Somehow they had managed to make a purse. Of course she might not, and would not, think him to blame for considering her and the children; but Mr. McCullagh had his doubts that he ought not to have done it. He would have thought better of them both if they had done a 'bit of starving.' And then another thing--where did Robert get what took him to America?He pondered these questions till he worked himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind; and though he might at once have relieved himself by putting the direct question to Janey, he preferred beating about the bush, and produced in consequence such an amount of mystification, that it was at length only by the purest chance she came to understand he happened to be unacquainted with the source whence her income was derived.'I thought you knew,' she said, looking up at him with the greatest surprise. 'Mr. Lilands made some arrangements with an insurance company, that at poor mamma's death the amount of her annuity should be continued to me. We had no other money whatever, not a sixpence in the world.'Upon this information, Mr. McCullagh for a time rested, content; but as the months went by, he began to ask himself why 'Jean, who had no pleasure in saving for saving's sake,' never would buy herself even a new pair of gloves if she could help it? why she was not a 'bit free' bringing the children in toys and cakes?She had told him that Mr. Lilands' solicitor paid the costs of her mother's last illness and funeral, 'so they oughtn't to be

in debt, because I settled for poor little Annie's burying.' He could not make it out. If Robert was sending home any money, he never heard of it; and yet it was not like him not to think of his wife and children.He pondered over the problem till he felt he must solve it by some means; and so one evening, after Janey had been with him nearly a year, when the children were in bed, and the servant too, he said,'I'm thinking, Jean, I'll have to buy ye a new dress.''Why?' asked Janey.'Because it seems to me ye'll no buy one for yourself. Ye'remighty stingy,' he went on, trying to smile as if he were making some agreeable observation, 'about what most women will stretch a pound or two concerning. How is it--I don't want to be inquisitive, I'm sure, but still I wish you would tell me--the way it comes about that ye can't make your income, which is no so bad at all, go further?'She did not answer him for a minute, only stitched on in silence. As he looked at her he saw tears were falling on her work.'If it hurts ye--' he was beginning, but she interrupted him.'It is scarcely my own matter, but I do not see why I should not tell you. When Robert went away we had no money at all--not even enough to pay his passage--and Mr. Snow lent him some; and we agreed that it should be paid back out of what I could save; and I am trying to get rid of that debt. And then I want to hoard up a little more if possible, so that when Robert sends for us I may not have to ask him for what perhaps he might be ill able to spare.''O,' said Mr. McCullagh, 'that's your plan, is it?''Yes; when he went away I promised--or at least he knew--that if my mother did not want me any longer I and the children would go to America when he could have us.''I see; and so the minute the young man whistles ye'll leave the old one.''I shall be very sorry to go, believe me--far more sorry than I ever thought it possible I should be--but Robert is my husband.''I know that; ye needn't tell me;' after which remark Mr. McCullagh resumed his newspaper with the muttered comment, 'I daresay it's natural enough.'But a few minutes elapsed, however, before he again spoke.'For all that, Jean, I think I must still buy you a dress.

Mrs. Kenneth is coming up next month, and I don't just like she should say we're not able to afford a few yards of stuff among us.'Some few days later Mr. McCullagh came up-stairs before dinner, calling for his daughter-in-law, who, as usual, was close at hand.'They sent the gown length in all right, did they, Jean?''Yes; but I was truly grieved you should have bought anything so expensive for me. I never thought to have another silk dress, and--'Hoots!' said Mr. McCullagh, cutting across her sentence; 'when I was doing the thing, I thought I might as well get a good one. It'll last ye years. O, and here's a bit of a present I brought in with me; I'll be up again presently;' and he tossed her over a piece of paper, which proved to be a receipt in full from Mr. Snow for the money he had advanced to Robert.When, a little later, she tried to speak her thanks, Mr. McCullagh stopped her quite summarily.'Ye'll be able now,' he said, with a queer twinkle in his eyes, 'to buy pins and needles and cottons and laces: and when ye want the money to go out to Robert, come to me; I'll manage somehow to write ye a cheque.''He must be going to die,' was Alfred Mostin's conclusion when Janey told him what had happened. 'It's an awful bad sign, you may depend. When a man like plain auld Rab takes to shovelling out guineas in this reckless manner, you may be sure he feels he is going where they can't be of any use to him.'She put her hand over the speaker's mouth, and said,'If you could only imagine how kind he has been to me!''He'd have been a wretch if he had not,' was his grudging answer.'You do not know how good he is,' she persisted.'I fancy I do,' he replied, with a dubious smile. 'However, I am glad he has given you this relief.'Time went by, and still it seemed as though Robert was as far from being able to send for his wife as ever. He strove to write cheerfully, but to Janey it was quite plain that he was doing no better in America than in England.'He's no in such a hurry to write for ye as ye're in to go to him,' Mr. McCullagh took a malicious pleasure in observing; whilst Janey sent out every shilling she had been able to

scrape together, hoping and trusting this might help him to do some good.'I am as happy as possible with your father,' she wrote; 'but I want you, dear. This separation is dreadful.'He had been away over two years, when one day in the late autumn Mr. McCullagh said,'I wish ye'd have a bit of supper ready to-night, Jean--about eight. I'm expecting a friend to look in.'Somewhat listlessly she answered it should be ready.'Ye're no feeling very well, are ye? asked her father-in-law.'I am a little low,' was her reply. 'I cannot help wondering what news will be in the next American letters. The mail is due to-morrow, is it not?''Yes, to-morrow morning.'It was 'between the lights,' and she sat without candles beside the hearth, on which, for once, a good fire blazed, marvelling if she should ever see her husband again, looking at the flickering flame, and recalling the happy days of their happy married life, which, as in a dream, she beheld through tears, when her reverie was broken by the noise of Mr. McCullagh's latchkey turning in the lock of the hall-door. She did not stir till she heard the steps of two persons ascending the stairs, and then she knew the expected guest had come before his time, and started up to light the candles. Before she could do so, however, they were in the room, and Mr. McCullagh's voice was saying cheerfully,'Ay, here she is herself! Now, Jean, who do ye think I've brought to see ye?'For one second she hesitated, then the match she was holding dropped out of her fingers.'Robert!' she cried--'Robert!' and she was clasped in her husband's arms.' Ye see, Jean,' observed Mr. McCullagh, a few minutes later, when he had lit the candles and pulled down the blinds, 'I couldn't do without ye, so I was forced to bring your husband back again; and now, that there may be no anxiety or misunderstanding, I just want to say one word before ye give him his supper. I always said I'd never take a partner, and I never will; but if Robert likes to turn his mind to the business here, he'll have no reason to complain that I am trying to screw him down. Mr. Roy is not what he was, and I want somebody that'll do what I want as I want. Your brothers are making

everything they sell out of something different from what it should be, and I'll have none of that. The old business has stuck to me, and I'll stick to it. Mr. Snow and me are agreed ye'd best not try to start anything on your own account; so if ye like what I propose, there it is for ye, and ye may settle your mind.''I shall only be too thankful,' answered Robert; 'and I will try to serve you faithfully, sir.''But I am no going to part with Jean,' explained Mr. McCullagh. 'Ye must live here and put up with my ways as well as ye can; and as for your boys, I'll see they've the best education I can give them. I heard a word dropped a while ago that one of them might be asked for some day, when they are looking out for the heir of Lilands' Abbey; but it is no use looking too far ahead. The first thing ye shall both do is take a run out of town, for, indeed, I want to see a streak of colour back again in Jean's white cheeks;' and so, during the whole of supper, Mr. McCullagh talked on, while the husband and wife, too happy for speech or food, sat hand locked in hand, 'just,' said Mr. McCullagh, 'a perfect pair of babes in the wood.''And well let all bygones be bygones, Robert,' observed his father magnanimously, 'and we'll cast no backward looks to the time when ye were so proud to be junior to the senior partner, and to be let into the Pousnett swindle.'Robert smiled somewhat sadly. 'I hope I shall never see Mr. Pousnett again,' he remarked.But one Saturday, when Mr. McCullagh ran down to them at Brighton, the very first person they met on the Chain Pier was that gentleman.Robert affected not to notice him, and passed on with Janey; but Mr. Pousnett, swooping down on Mr. McCullagh with the exclamation, 'Ah, my old friend!' bore him off to the Parade, where he told him a great many things, true and false, winding up with the statement, Mrs. Pousnett and his daughters were stopping also at the Bedford, 'where you had better come and dine with us,' he finished.But Mr. McCullagh excused himself somewhat stiffly. Perhaps he felt he had partaken of Mr. Pousnett's hospitality often enough.He spoke of this encounter afterwards to Captain Crawford, who called upon him in Basinghall-street.'Yes,' said that gentleman, 'he is down there with Benaron,

the millionaire, who is going to marry Lord Cresham's widow. I suppose you have heard they are going to make Pousnett a baronet.''Never ' exclaimed Mr. McCullagh.'They are, though.''In the name of all that's wonderful, why would they do that?''He is a representative man,' answered Captain Crawford dryly.THE END.