THE
SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."

BOOK II.
CHAPTER XVII. MORE TROUBLES.

IN a moment the voices of two gentlemen
were heard in the hall. Ada was heard to say
softly, "It is William."

"Ross!" cried Mrs. Tilney, impatiently.
"What does he want here again? This is
getting outrageous."

The next moment that gentleman, in a heavy
yellow great-coat, and his tall, stooped friend,
Grainger, came tramping in, as if it were a
tavern. Mr. Ross, looking weary and jaded,
flung himself on a chair.

"There," he said, at last, "we have come a
long way, I can tell you—up from the north
this morning. Can you get us anything? I
promised Grainger, here, something."

Grainger rose up. "Not for the world," he
said, in his soft voice. "No, no, I never
dreamed of such a thing. My friend romances
a little. Of course I shall go down to the
hotel."

"Nonsense! What stuff you talk," said
Ross. "I tell you, you must stay here. Why,
we are not such Goths and Siberians that we
can't muster a bit of cold meat, or a rib of
mutton out of the cupboard—eh? I suppose
a famine has not set in since we were here
last?"

"Intolerable!" said Mrs. Tilney, angrily,
"coming in in this way without notice. This
is not one of your common inns or pothouses.
I am sure Mr. Grainger knows we should be
glad to see him in the regular way; but—"

"Of course," said Grainger; "you understand
me perfectly. Our friend here wants, I
believe, to talk to Mr. Tilney about business—
the business. There is a new turn in the
matter, it seems, and—"

"A new turn!" said Mr. and Mrs. Tilney
together. "Something unlucky, I am sure of
it," added she.

"Well, what of it?" he said; "it's my own
affair if it is. That infernal attorney was giving
some of his impertinence, and I chose to write
him a letter. He has thrown the whole thing up.
Curse him, body and soul! I was setting off,
packed up, and was promising myself a week's
riot in Paris on my way out, when this
infernal ruffian chooses this moment to annoy
me."

"O, William! William!" said Ada, "this
is more of your old ways!"

"Come away, away down to the hotel," said
Grainger. " When we have had something, we
can come up again."

"You can do as you like," said the other,
"but I shall stay. Look here!" he said,
suddenly, standing up. "It comes to this. We
want money to carry on with. The appeal, as
they call it, comes on in a month. The long-
eared judges are to sit all in a row, and hear it
all over again. Those low thieving sharks of
attorneys won't move a step without some
money in hand, 'out-of-pocket costs,' and all
their swindling jargon. Now, the long and
short is, you are at the top of a bank here, and
can draw cheques and make ducks and drakes
of the money. You must do this for us—d'ye
see?"

"I! God bless my heart, Ross," said Mr.
Tilney, " how little you know! Why—"

"I think it would be the best course, Mr.
Tilney," said Grainger, calmly. " It was I, in
fact, advised it. I know it is done often as a
compliment to the director, and very properly
too. He gets his turn of a little money now
and again, and no questions asked; it is his
right, in fact!"

Mr. Tilney looked bewildered. "His right,
in fact!" he repeated. "No, no; not in our
case. I daren't."

"Daren't!" said Mrs. Tilney, turning on
him. "Exactly. What did I always tell you?
You never know your own position, and what
you are entitled to. You put up with too much
from that insolent Smiles. See, even Mr.
Grainger must teach you what your rights
are."

"No, no," said Mr. Tilney, hopelessly, " it
couldn't be—it couldn't be done. We are not
on terms. In fact, they have refused."

"Perhaps Mr. Tilney, as Mrs. Tilney says,
has been too forbearing with them. These
people always will encroach. These matters
should be calmly but firmly insisted on. What
sort of a fellow is he?"

"I tell you what, then," said Ross, rising
suddenly, "since he's afraid to speak to him,
suppose we go to the fellow's house? I'll