THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."

BOOK I.

CHAPTER IV. A STORMY CONSULTATION.

ON the following morning, when the sun was
well up and making the little town glitter in all
its points and angles, and when the boots was
telling the chambermaid, with whom he was
most intimate, how the " gent," who was above,
"'ad been turning up his nose" at the best room
in " the 'ouse," Mr. Tilney came " swinging" in,
bright as the very morning itself. He found
that his friend had gone out some time, but was
to be back shortly.

"Never mind," said Mr. Tilney, plaintively,
as if to deprecate their sending out an immediate
express; " never mind. I can wait here quite
as well. Here is a paper, and I shall get on very
comfortably."

So he did, for he presently found that a " little
soda" with a glass of sherry would be "no
harm," as he put it, and thus assisted, he did not
find the moments tedious.

When Mr. Tillotson came, he seized on him
with alacrity. He must come off at once. But
Mr. Tillotson had letters, and business. " Look
here," he said, gently, showing him accounts,
figures, &c., " all this to be got through."

It was agreed, then, that about four o'clock
Mr. Tilney should come again, seize on his friend,
and bear him off to visit the Tilney family. And
at four he did come, and Mr. Tillotson wearily
let himself be led away.

"This is our little nook," said Mr. Tilney,
stopping to open a wooden gate. "Nothing
very pretentious, you see." It was an old grey
stone house, of two stories high, and the centre
portion projecting beyond the rest. The windows
were open, and sounds of voices came from
within. But Mr. Tillotson drew back. " It
seems there are some people, and I really am
not——"  But Mr. Tilney had on his overpowering
agricultural manner in a moment. He bore down
everything, and swept him in with cries as his
prototype would have done sheep. The other
submitted, though his heart sank at the notion
of society.

There was a little glass hall in front of the
hall door, with seats and a few plants. The
hall door was always open. As they entered,
Mr. Tilney himself drew back. "Don't know
that voice," he said.

There were a faded lady and two daughters
and two gentlemen sitting there. The
gentleman whose voice Mr. Tilney did not know,
was still speaking, nor did he stop when they
entered. He was a sharp, clean-looking, tall
man, with black hair, cut close, and coming down
on his forehead like the skull-cap of Leo the
Tenth. He continued:

"The whole thing is downright outrageous. I
come here by appointment, and Mr. Dawkins
here comes here by appointment, and—you see!
His own interests are at stake, my interests are
at stake. But he does not care. It is weak,
immoral—grossly immoral—and," he added,
"clinching" the matter, "grossly unbusiness-like."

Mr. Dawkins repeated (baling out water between
his knees with his hat) that it was grossly
unbusiness-like.

Mrs. Tilney now spoke, as if introducing:

"Mr. Cater, William Ross's solicitor; and
Mr. Dawkins"—but Mr. Tillotson himself was
passed over, so absorbed were they all.

"Solicitor to the plaintiff, in the ejectment,
sir. Come here by appointment," said Mr.
Dawkins.

"Our time is very valuable," said Mr. Cater.
"But there are people who do not seem to
think so."

"Ah, to be sure," said Mr. Tilney, in a loud
voice. " And where is Ross? Has he been
found? Has he been sent for? Let him be
sought for round the town, in several
directions."

"We have thought of that long ago," said
Mrs. Tilney, languidly. " These gentlemen have
been here nearly an liour, and won't take any
wine or anything."

"I am afraid, do you know," said Mr. Tilney,
gravely, " he is at this moment with some of the
wild set from the barracks. Some of them fine
young fellows enough, but free, you know. I am
told that young Bundoran, Lord Skibbereen's
second son, who really being in decent society,
and having opportunities——-"