old wooden sashes, precisely as they were in the
old-fashioned days of the Ferry, a hundred and
fifty years before. The bow-windows were
surrounded with ivy and creeping plants, and now
a red curtain being drawn, and there being light
in the old-fashioned bar behind the red curtain,
it looked as warm and glowing and comforting
as a real Maypole Inn taken out of fiction. Most
comforting, too, it must have looked to the
people in the omnibus, which Mr. Tillotson now
saw coming down the avenue. He waited to
see it draw up and the guests arrive, a proceeding
of interest to many resident guests of the
place, who stood about smoking their after
dinner cigars. It was a full omnibus, and many
got down. Mr. Tillotson watched it mechanically
and without much interest, but, as he stood,
was attracted by a loud and angry voice giving
orders about some of his "things," which could
not be found at once. The voice was arrogant,
and with a sense of injury in it. It complained
and abused at the same time. He made such a
noise that the landlady herself came out.

"Always the way at these infernal places,"
he went on. "You knock things about as if
they were of iron. Much you care what becomes
of them, so as you get your money out of us."

The light was on his face—a very hot one,
seen under a grey hat—and Mr. Tillotson recognised
Ross.

He had long since forgotten that strange
letter from Ireland, and, in fact, was glad to see
him; for he always looked on him as more wild
than vicious, and now thought this meeting very
fortunate. He went up to him.

"Mr. Ross," he began.

"Why, who the devil!" said the other, starting
back, and shading his eyes for a good view.
"So this is you, is it, Mr.Tillotson? Ah! there
it is, stupids. If there's a thing damaged in it,
I'll make the hotel pay, by Heavens I will. So
you're here, Mr.T.—eh?"

"I am glad we have met," said Mr. Tillotson,
"as I have something particular to say to
you."

"O, you have, have you?" said the other,
suspiciously. "Well, I can't hear it now. I
suppose you'll let a fellow dine—eh, Mr. T.?
A man that has been half over Ireland, and
across from Kingstown, must be hungry. I
suppose your particular business will let me
eat—eh?"

After his dinner, he went out into the little
garden under the window to have his cigar. He
found Mr. Tillotson there.

"Here you are again!" he said. "Now, look
here," he went on. "What game are you at
now? Why did you follow me here, sneaking
after me in this way? Why—"

"Do listen to me," said Mr. Tillotson, "and
dismiss all these delusions. I did not follow you
here, as you will see, if you reflect. I have been
here for weeks. But I am very glad to have
met you."

The other laughed. "That's very good," he
said."How would you like to meet me down
at St. Alans—at old Tilney's—eh? Not so
much, I think. I say," he said, changing his
tone, "I hope you have given up that, infernal
sneaking game down there—if you haven't,
by——"

"Stop," said Mr. Tillotson, calmly; "this
way of speaking has no effect on me, not in the
least. A little quiet reasoning would have much
more. I have seen too much of the world to
care for threats or menaces."

This tone sobered Mr. Ross a little.

"Never mind," he said; "you always hated
me, and still do, and try to interfere with me in
every way. But never mind—wait until I get
my money next week. The judges must give it
to me."

"That is just what I wanted to speak to you
about," said Mr. Tillotson, eagerly. "Why go on
with the matter? She is quite willing to come
to some arrangement with you. Her condition
is changed now—she does not care for law.
It will be the most sensible course for all
parties."

Strange to say, Mr. Ross listened to this
proposal with more toleration. Mr. Tillotson had
got him on his weak side when he said,
"I have always had your interest at heart,
though I never could get you to believe it. You
have some unreasonable hatred to me; for what,
I cannot make out."

"Unreasonable, of course," said the other,
grumbling. "Ah, that's very well. What took
you down to St. Alans—eh? Unless——"

"I have done with St. Alans for ever," said
Mr. Tillotson, hastily, "and with all that are in
it. But think this all over, Ross. Begin by
believing that I am not such a deadly enemy as you
would suppose, and then see how this suit may
be adjusted."

Mr. Tillotson told Mrs. Tillotson that night
that he thought it was all settled. In the morning
he came down to the garden a little before
breakfast. He was walking there absently, when
Ross came towards him, having leaped out of the
coffee-room window, which opened on the ground.

"Well, have you thought over the matter?" he
said.

The other was in one of his furies. "I have,
I have. You're a nice person to trust—a nice
jockey. Lucky I know how to keep my eyes
open. Infernally, scoundrelly taken in."

"What is this now?" said Mr. Tillotson.

"What is this now? Why, that I have found
out your game. And it is close and clever
enough. But I am up to you. I found you out.
So you wished to make up the suit for her. You
had no interest in it. No. Luckily I just asked
the waiter last night."

"Surely you must have known," said Mr.
Tillotson, beginning to understand him, "that
I was married."

"That's very well now, Mr. Tillotson. If you
put your eyes on sticks, I'll not settle—not for
one sixpence."