But Mr. Jabez, as we have said, not only could get his blood up, but he could not very well get it down again in a hurry, so he felt nettled and mischievous just then, and as sarcasm was his safest weapon in such contests, he blurted out at all hazards a very death-stab to the enraged baronet.

"Yes, Sir, we came over with the conqueror in Dutch bottoms, in Dutch boots, and with a decent stock of Dutch courage, and wasn't he William the Conqueror? you ought to know, some of you. We did your business, I rather guess,

and James Stuart's, too."

This was the most violent and indeed the only explosion of the kind that ever broke from Grogram, volcano-like, right in a live baronet's face; but it had a most unexpected effect, and disastrous consequences to the speaker. Sir Ethelred stared as might a Nineveh bull, on Layard's face, after a respectable interment of centuries in mounds, the very dust of which had once been a glorious city. He was not indignant nor yet exactly astonished-rather (as might have been the case with the aforesaid bull) as if some centuries ago he had been put into a mighty sepulchre of mouldy, loamy, old conceits, with that identical wide stare on his face ready for the first re-appearance of daylight above ground. If he had felt with anything like the keenness proper to one in his situation, he would have been choked on the spot, and all but the dowager's portion would have slid from the grasp of the parchment-faced cormorant, who stiffened as he stood with most becoming horror at his own presumption. But Sir Ethelred did not choke-did not feel as he ought to have felt he simply stared, and that stare would have petrified the stiffened Grogram there and then, if he had known what it indicated. In truth Sir Ethelred did not know what he was staring so for himself; but in a few weeks more he knew why, for he declared with much solemnity, and a terrible amount of meaning, that his eyes were opened to Grogram's real character. And we cannot wonder at it, when we think how completely Mr. Jabez did open himself out on this occasion, and that it was the first time he had ever opened himself, even so wide as a peep-hole, to the bleared moral optics of Sir Ethelred Harkyside.

It appeared, all things considered, the wisest thing to go, and so the uncomfortable agent bowed as became a scion of Dutch conquerors, and sidled out of the room. The bewildered baronet continued to stare at the vacant spot for full five minutes until he came to his senses, and with a puffy growl muttered, "I believe that fellow's an infernal Whig."

The information of Mr. Jabez was perfectly correct, so far as the bare fact of Mr. Charles's arrival at Mylden Place was involved in his statement. It was true also that he had come to the house of his fathers very like an evilly disposed rogue in the night; but the reason for this was rather a feeling of shame than of fear. He dreaded to meet the dear wife who, all ignorant of the real state of the case, was quietly rejoicing as she sat watching through the falling night-weeping freely as she remembered the pain through which her beloved one must have passed-weeping, too, that she had not been near to nurse his sickness; but weeping most bitterly because she had dared to murmur in her own heart at his long silence. How wrong of her to have mistrusted his deep love. How bitter the punishment now to know that while she had fretted like a spoiled child, he had been tossing in wretched pain and fever alone (she felt so) in a great London hospital. He was coming now, and her tears were of joy more than of grief. How gently would she fold him to her beating heart. How tenderly would she strive to recompense him for the long lonely hours of anguish, and labour to bless and dignify the cruel stroke with the wise teachings of religious love. At length he came, the truant husband; truant from such happiness and love as seldom cry to the worldling,- -"Stay! for home is heaven on earth." His eye was sunk and dim, his cheek flushed for the first sweet moment, and then grew deathly pale; his breath was sharp and difficult; languor spread over all his limbs and features, and as he sank upon a couch outwearied and sick, the love of the wifely heart became charged with a new life of holiest pity, grew unspeakable-stronger than death. Many days passed in the unbroken bridal stillness of their earlier union. All emotions were indulged as if on sufferance, except the underlying love of both hearts which absorbed or held in silken

bondage all other feelings. It seemed as though the prodigal had brought more blessing than he had come, so needy and so feeble, to seek. Their cup of happiness was full-it was running over; ah, it was running away too. Let them drink it in haste, and offer up their praise-vows to God.

CHAPTER II.

A GENTLEMAN'S GENTLEMAN.

MR. MOTTRAM had rejoined his master at a convenient spot on the way down-had met him, in fact, by appointmentvery punctually, and very much to the satisfaction of both parties. Charles was thoroughly reformed, in intention, and Mr. Mottram had been somewhat reformed of necessity. But in reality, Charles was very much in need of some one to toady him up into something of his sadly-wasted selfrespect-somebody, too, who did not know what he had really passed through; and who could both put a good face on the matter of the long absence, and teach him how to keep up appearances. He did not wish to play the hypocrite, and if there had been any likelihood of comforting Sarah's mind by a frank confession, there is no doubt, softened as he was, he would have given her that comfort at once-to rue his candour, perhaps, in a little time and evermore. Mr. Mottram had been called away from London at a very unfortunate crisis for his master-just when he had begun to find out that he was the object of silent contempt on the part of those bullying politicians who were the aversion of Mr. Mottram's respectable old soul. This gentleman had received the (to him) distressing intelligence that his only brother—a bachelor and a barber-had, in a fit of mental unsoundness (no one could question that-least of all the college-bred butler) deliberately chucked himself into a slimy canal, and had persevered in the mud till he was drowned. No pretence whatever existed for the act-no sign had ever been given by the lamented barber that he ever entertained such gloomy notions about self and destiny as to lead him to

drown himself. He had occasionally given very unpleasant hints about some such proceeding, but few supposed that he had the remotest reference to his own throat, when he said"Go smoothly, sir? Thought so-sweetly? I thought sobeautiful-cut a man's jugular as clean as a whistle." Grave men recalled these grim utterances of their Sunday shaving, felt as if it was a punishment that might become a judgment for their profanity, were generally glad when the business was over-they recalled it for the guidance of the jury, and for the due horrifying of the public at the inquest

but one and all agreed they never did imagine that Solomon Mottram would of his own accord plunge even the tip of his tongue, much less his head and shoulders in cold water. He had done this very thing, however, and the jury, with a strong fellow-feeling could not bring themselves to any other conclusion than that he was out of his mind, and this accordingly was their unamended verdict. The tidings reached Mr. Mottram by a circuitous route, and before he received them the three burial clubs of which the deceased had been a member, concerted amongst themselves to give him a firstrate funeral, that should look as if it cost all the money due, and no balance were left wherewith disconsolate survivors might brave up against their sorrow. Melancholy tidings they were in every sense to the bereaved brother. He had once loved Solomon, but that was when he was a very little boy-much indebted to his elder. He saw at a glance that if there was any burying money at all, it would all be gone before he could handle it. It seemed to him that he must go down in the flesh to the West Riding of Yorkshire to settle the late hairdresser's affairs-it was very painful to a mind of his superior cast to do any such low thing. He little thought when he was at Oxford that he should ever be so hard driven as actually to go to Yorkshire in his own proper person. Couldn't he go by power of attorney? No, that would be madness-boring a hole in his own cheese, and setting the mouse to work-that would never do-go he must, but he never thought it. Then mainly, but momentarily the tidings shocked him, in that they made him for about the first time in his life think of his own latter end. But he went. He

was received with open arms and a closed shop. He soon opened the one and bound down the other with a clean print apron-setting to work like a man who knows how to make the best of a bad job. For the space of a month he shaved indefatigably, and by dint of his south country breed and college training, he secured such a popularity among the unshorn multitude, that they often sat to him twice a week instead of once as of old, for the sake of enjoying with something like a title his rich and humorous gabble.

His knowledge of perruquiery, acquired in a higher sphere, was a new power in the community-it so excited the wonder and taste of the window gazers, that they came inside by the dozen-consented to have their heads shaved, in the prospect of one day looking as curly and shiny about the poll as the wax-work miracles in the window-wearing with a meek spirit the while, the rustiest relics of by-gone wiggery which the old stock could furnish. Now all this was a delusion, and the worthy valet knew it. In the warmest corner of the little shavery there might be seen a lank, weak-eyed, light-haired young man, at all times of the day through those four experimental weeks, always intent on the same page of an old newspaper, and secretly engaged in making delusive estimates of how much the good-will of the business was worth. Mr. Mottram's devotion to business might be fully accounted for by a reference to this lank, weak-eyed, thin fact in the corner. And the upshot was that both parties were satisfied-Mr. Mottram especially making a splendid thing out of that deceptive prosperity-pocketing what he chose to call "a handsome, but not over handsome, benevolence ”. handing over the business with its tare and tret at a price too much for net―breathing best wishes for the fortunate youth -who with clammy hands and unsavoury breath, and feeble, washy talk, contrived to shave all the customers once round -but not more than once all round. On the wings of success Mr. Mottram flew to the office of the night-coach to London -on the wings of £4 10s. he flew inside snugly to the metropolis, and at once followed the young master he had so loved-to plunder, with a zeal which bade fair to carry to still greater lengths the particular kind of love to which