Wakened up into the old fire and enthusiasm
which was, indeed, his real character, Mr.
Tillotson protested eagerly and earnestly; begged,
almost implored, for a little more delay—- say a
day or two even—- and conjured them to leave
the matter still to him. He was so earnest and
so eloquent, that he imparted some of his confidence
to the others, and after some grudging
protest on the part of the secretary, he obtained
a grace of a couple of days more.

Full of eagerness, and now of anxiety, he
went home in a strange flutter. Several times
he almost smiled at himself. " Why should I,"
he said, " take an interest in such a wretched
intrigue as this?" But he did take the interest,
and, more than that, he found it absorbing all
his thoughts.

But on that day, while Mr. Tillotson was
engrossed with this exciting business, young Mrs.
Tillotson had an unexpected visitor. Mr.
Tilney called and stayed in the hall while his name
was sent up. It was Mr. Tilney nearly
approaching the older Tilney—- the Tilney that had
"rallied," and took enjoyment in life and what
was going on in the world, and who was so
exuberantly grateful to Providence for any little
blessings that had been showered upon him.
"I have had some rubs," he said to his friends
—-" some rubs. But it is good for us. Those
that are well chastened, we are told, are most
loved. I take it to be a very fair world on the
whole; I do indeed."

"Just take my card up," he said to the
servant. "Mr. Tilney, you know. I almost
made sure you would have had him back from
business by this time."

Young Mrs. Tillotson's first impulse was to
send down word that she was not at home. But
she recollected the name, and what associations
were connected with it; and very eagerly she
sent back word that she hoped Mr. Tilney
would walk up.

Mr. Tilney entered, smiling, and with lofty
welcome, as if it were his house. " So glad," he
said—- " so very glad. Now this is what I call
an opportunity." And he reached over a
Lilliputian chair, which creaked and cracked as
he laid down his long figure in it. " They make
these things," he said, looking over his shoulder
at it, " all for show, you know. They run 'em
up, you see. God bless me! the days of the
good old costly furniture—- fine work, ma'am.
There was Darby and Minifer, who had any furniture
tthat was wanted for the palace. And noble
work it was; would support elephants."

The little lady was very excited and eager in
her manner. " You recollect the day we met
you at the court," she said. " I was the poor
beaten appellant—- is not that the word?"

"Capital, Mrs. Tillotson, and quite right.
There are phrases in the profession. That wild
fellow, Ross, now aboard ship, they call him
respondent. As for the court, I am not sure
exactly—- query, Court of Appellate Jurisdiction
—- query, Criminal Appeal, with power to form a
quorum, or add to their number. Certainly
with power to form a quorum; but really—-"

Mrs. Tillotson interrupted him eagerly:
"And how are they all at home? Mrs. Tilney,
and your daughters, and Miss—Miss—-?"

"Millwood, Millwood," said he. " They are
pretty well, thank you—much obliged to you.
Mrs. Tilney has been suffering from the
bronchitis. Miss Millwood—Ada—she never is
ill, somehow. A very wonderful person
altogether."

"Yes?" said the little lady, very anxiously.

"Yes," said Mr. Tilney, in a dreamy way,
with his eyes half closed. " She's a woman, you
know, that you might walk from this, say to—
say to—oh let me see!—to Lamb's Conduit-
street; yes, without meeting another like her.
And I do assure you, her little history might be
written in a book. Romance up and down;
take it any way, romance still. Ask Tillotson!"

"Ah, to be sure," said she, her breath coming
and going. " Just as you say."

"Just as I say," he repeated. " Tillotson
has told it you again and again. Why, there's
Ross; the man would put his eyes upon
sticks together to get her. Romance again,
you see."

"Would he?" she asked, with extraordinary
interest; "but why—-"

"Ah, why! You see then come in the
wheels. A very remarkable girl, I assure you.
I might begin now, sitting in this very chair"
(which gave a loud crack, and received a look
of remonstrance from the sitter), " and not be
done before to-morrow, telling all that occurred
in that little town. It might be put in three
volumes octavo, large print."

"Yes?" she said.

"I dare say you have many a laugh with
your husband over all that. I don't wonder he
was struck—a man coming down in that way,
and not a soul to stir him up."

"Tell me about that," she said, eagerly " all
about it. I am dying to know."

Mr. Tilney shook his head. " Ah, no!" he
said; " no, no. Scarcely, I think. These were
bachelor days, and it ain't fair, you know. I
remember the Dook saying to me, ' When a lad
marries, Tilney, he cuts the bachelor adrift!
You know he was bred to the sea, and spoke
in that way. The Sailor Dook he was always
called."

Full of feverish anxiety to know more, with
strained eyes and flushed cheeks, the little lady
said again: " O, you must tell me." Then,
becoming a little hypocritical, she added, with a
confidential look, " I know it all already; that
is, nearly all."

"Ah! I see," said Mr. Tilney, " a little fun.
Want to rally him in the long evenings. I
know. There was Lady Mary Jennings, who
had been maid of honour, and married well——"

"And so he actually," she said, with a look
of strained anxiety that would have startled
any one less preoccupied with his reminiscences
than Mr. Tilney, "proposed for her?" (Wistful
eyes waited for the answer.)

"Dear me!" said Mr. Tilney, his eyes still