money will buy. For some months past I have
been balancing in my own mind between Elia's
Essays and the Suspiria de Profundis, and now
that I may have both for a word, I have ceased
to care about either. I suppose I shall never
know again the simple delight I felt last year in
purchasing several volumes of St. Beuve's critical
essays, or the pride I experienced in seeing two
gay volumes of Kingsley's Miscellanies displayed
on my table. If you can get these books, read
"My Winter Garden," John; it will make you
dream yourself at home again for half an hour.
I have been poor and hard-working, but I have
had my share of happiness too; I shall still hold
fast my theory of compensations, and believe that
if we did not inherit from our dear father much
worldly wealth, we inherited what was better, in
good health, good spirits, and a taste for good
reading. If the last forsake me permanently, as
it has done since I heard of Mr. Burfield's death
and its consequences to myself, then must the
day of my coming into a fortune be marked with
charcoal and not chalk!

You love a long gossip, I know, for you have
often said so; therefore I shall let my pen run,
and tell you all as it happened to me when, by
Mr. Worsley's advice, I set off to town by the
first train in the morning after the receipt of his
letter. He gave me the address of a certain
hotel, and thither I caused myself to be driven as
soon as we got in. It was about four o'clock of
the afternoon, very dull and cold, and with a
light rain falling. The people at the hotel
appraised my value by my luggage and my dress
and when I inquired for a bed and sitting-room,
ushered me into the closest and least commodious
the establishment had to be ashamed of. Sordid
little rooms, dark, doleful, looking from a great
height, upon a narrow back street where grass
might and probably did grow between the stones.
It was not very distant from Russell-square, nor
from the residence and office of Mr. Worsley, and
so far it was convenient; but my riches had, at
the outset, introduced me to a meaner and more
comfortless habitation than anything my poverty
had ever made me acquainted with. However, I
was glad of its silence, glad of its retirement, and
having inquired if there were a messenger on the
premises by whom I could send a note which I
wished delivered immediately, I wrote three
lines to the lawyer's address, notifying my
arrival, and then, country fashion, ordered up
tea.

While I was still loitering over my favourite
refreshment, a waiter came to the door, announcing
that Mr. Worsley was come, and the next
moment he was ushered into the room. You
would have laughed to see us, John, for I am
sure the introduction was a mutual surprise. I
had expected to see a sharp, brisk, wiry, stiff-
haired gentleman, middle-aged or elderly, and the
lawyer was young, handsome, cheerful, gay, and
airy. Possibly he anticipated a rosy-cheeked
rustic beauty, simple, ignorant, and docile, and,
if so, his start of dismay was justified when he
beheld a plain woman, no longer young, in last
century raiment, and with an intractable expression
of will and decision on her countenance,
arising out of long years of trial and self-dependence.
Oh, John, I am not a bit like what I
used to be: when women have to stand by
themselves, it makes them hard, and rubs off all the
little weaknesses and prettinesses that are their
chiefest charm. You would not know me for the
Maggie you left at eighteen. I have two lines
between my eyes now, and grey hairs. Grey
hairs, indeed; why, all my hair is grey! But my
heart is warm for you, Johnny, and in the right
place still, I hope; and if my face is faded, it is
only like the rest of those who were young with
me. One would not wish to see others grow old
and leave us behind. But Mr. Worsley, I am
sure, was disagreeably astonished, though he
soon recovered his professional decorum, and
while I was mentally ejaculating, " How, in the
world, am I to talk to this dandified gentleman?"
he was smoothing the way by his grave utterance
of the regulation sentiments on the occasion, and
instilling into my mind the fact that he might be
a sober, clever man of business, notwithstanding
his Adonis locks, and perfumed scrupulosity of
attire; for he was as smart as if he were going
out courting.

At the first pause I set aside my teacup, and
asked if he had been my uncle's adviser
long. His answer was, that Mr. Bur field had
placed his affairs in the hands of his father's firm
as soon as he had any affairs to manage— and
that must have been nearly forty years ago. The
answer was as curt as the question had been, but
it satisfied me entirely. I said that was all I
wanted to know, having had Mr. Burfield's
confidence so long, explanations of family divisions
would not be required from me. I then intimated
that I should remain in town until everything
was settled. I do not perceive that there was
anything either premature or peculiar in this
announcement; but Mr. Worsley replied, with the
ghost of a smile haunting the corners of his
handsome mouth, that the funeral was not
arranged to take place until the day after the
morrow.

"I have never seen my uncle. We were utter
strangers to each other," I said, hastily; for I
fancied a rebuke was implied. If it were so, he
did me injustice. I am in no haste to stand in
the dead man's shoes. I fear they will prove a
sore and irksome misfit to my feet; but there
was nothing conventional in my notions, and I
sat there without feigning the least regret; no
more mourning in my heart than there was about
my person. Mr. Worsley is a man of discernment;
perhaps he might have preferred the
exhibition of a little decent hypocrisy, but as
that was not my cue, he had no call to quarrel
with me for omitting a merely formal and
empty observance. Mr. Burfield's behaviour
had not been kinsmanlike, so there need be no
pretence of affection; and as I was about to
reap from his death advantages which I could