little meetings Mr. Tillotson began to look with
great eagerness, for he had really come to know
and admire every day more and more the thorough
unselfishness and genial sympathy of this fine
nature. And at these Sunday meals the captain
told the incidents of the week, drawn from his
lodging life, as he enjoyed "a remarkably fine
saddle", which was his favourite dish. There
was a humorous simplicity in all his relations,
very entertaining, though he was accustomed to
check himself very often, saying, "Now I am
getting into one of my old stories", and would
have to be pressed hard to go on. After dinner,
too, it was a matter of great delight with the
young mistress to get "nunkey" to read out
some new fiction, to which the brave old officer
applied himself at once with the gallantry that
always characterised him where there was a
lady's wish in the case. And while the two
ladies worked (Mr.Tillotson was below with
business), the captain, with his book held firmly
before him, and a pair of tortoiseshell glasses on
his Roman nose, read on, with extraordinary
seriousness, through many pages of the most
diverting of modern works of humour. For his
mind was so concentrated on the one aim—that
of seeing and pronouncing his words—that he
was unable to spare any attention to the sense,
and read on steadily, as though it was his family
Prayer-book. And sometimes at an exciting part,
where the hero was about to put a question on
which much happiness was to depend, the captain,
on hearing the clock strike ten, would take
down his glasses with great satisfaction, and
close his book, saying, "I think now we have
left them all very comfortably settled together.
Really, an exceedingly well-written book."

All this time, however, he was watching the
new ménage with much careful interest. He
had been a little disturbed by the incidents of
the wedding-day; but every hour's progress only
pleased him the more, and made him say again
and again to himself, that "that Tillotson was
a prince of a fellow, a noble creature, and behaving
like a true gentleman to the little girl." It
had turned out, he said, the best thing in
the world. But with all the captain's observation
and warm approbation, he could not see
what was passing in the heart of that "little
girl", now grown infinitely more serious and
thoughtful than she ever was before, which, however,
was to be explained by the little responsibilities
of her new position. Her health had
been greatly improved by the Welsh air, and
there seemed no necessity indeed for that foreign
journey.

The Tilneys were no longer at St. Alans. They
were very much "shaken" by that dreadful blow.
Mr. Tilney had, however, rallied considerably,
and went about very much as he had done
before, having a far deeper religious tone in
his conversation, especially whenever he alluded
to what he called his "illness." "The doctors
ordered me away from that place, sir," he said.
"It was not the place for a gentleman with a
family to reside at. Only that it suited the
health of my children, I would not have stayed an
hour. Cathedral is very well in its way—lifts up
the mind. But, after all, take Westminster,
sir—the devotional serenity of that old pile!
Often and often, as I pass it by in a Hansom,
it stirs me—it stirs me here".

The fact was, General Whitaker and others of
his friends, a little shocked at what had taken
place, had come together, and said to each other
that "something must be done for that poor old
Tilney." After about six months, an old friend
of his, who had long lost sight of him, and who
had never said anything about "something must
be done for poor old Tilney," stepped on the
scene, and got him some little "berth" near
London—something to do with Hampton Court
Palace. Lord Chinnery also, a distant relation
of his, but with very strong opinions on the
morality of "self-help," particularly in the case
of relations, had some pittance literally wrung
from him. And with these aids Mr.Tilney
gradually rallied into his old alacrity and his old
diffuseness, and pursued his secular and religious
commentary on life.

On the very first Sunday after their return, the
captain came limping up about half an hour
before dinner, thus inaugurating the custom.
Mr.Tillotson was out, and he found the little
lady of the house waiting in the drawing-room.
He noticed a sort of anxious look in her face.

"Well, how are you?" he said, gaily. "That's
right; give me the hand. Good child. Where's
Tillotson?"

She was very glad to see him.

"He has not come in from his walk. He likes
these long solitary walks. I suppose he wishes
to have full opportunity for thinking over——"

"Over you, you mean," said the captain,
pinching her cheek. "You rogue."

The little lady's eyes wandered round the
room anxiously.

"Not at all," she said. Then laughed. "Ah,
nunkey, I found it out. I always told you,
remember, he had a mystery, and you wouldn't
tell me. But I made it out for myself."

Much troubled, the captain looked at her to
see what she meant. One more skilled in the
little trickeries and shifts of a sensitive breast
would have seen under this false acting. He
was a little sorry. As he always thought,
"Best let bygones be bygones."

"And there was no mystery, after all," he
said. "Why, did Tillotson take you into confidence?
Or, I dare say, you little rogue, you
coaxed it all out of him?"

"Yes, yes," she said, "I found it out. About
that Miss Tilney, you know, down at St. Alans
—eh?"

This she said so wistfully, and with such an
eager inquiry written so painfully on her face,
that the captain saw in a second what was the
true state of the case. "I could have bit my
tongue off," he said to himself afterwards. "But
Tom always was a regular old Gamahoe"—the