the names of the newly-wedded offices in a true
lovers' knot on the front of the building. It
was now

"The United General Foncier and London
Loan Company."

The rejected office was supposed to be tearing
its hair and grinding its teeth inside one of
its own safes.

On one of these happy nights the servant
brought in another letter to Mr. Tillotson. It
had the Nice postmark. He opened it, being
in good spirits, with excellent anticipation. It
was from the captain again at great length, with
a few cold lines from Mrs. Tillotson.

"Maison-Maray, Nice.

"My dear Tillotson. Here we are by the sea,
in this cozy place, in uncommonly nice lodgings,
and, I must say, as reasonable as ever I set foot
in. We have been here only two days, and the
weather is very good, and the houses fine enough
in their way; but coming after Paris, you
know! Well, even Paris, you know, didn't
seem quite the same as it used to be, somehow.
They were pulling the whole place down, and,
do you know, Tillotson, I missed the old lanes
and the ramshackle quarters where I and Colonel
Cameron used to walk, looking for a caffy to
dine. But, maybe, it's old Tom himself that's
changed.

"We thought a fortnight was long enough,
and we saw everything—theatres, operas, and all
—and, above all, the little gardens in the Chons
Eleasy, where you went inside a railing and
took a chair, and had your cognac, and as fine a
creature as you'd ask to see came out and sang,
and not a halfpenny to pay. Indeed, I never
met such civil people.

"My travelling gentleman put up at our hotel,
and nothing could exceed his attention and
kindness, to me especially. I used to cab it,
you may be sure, but sometimes the fellow-
traveller would like to walk and see the people on
the Boolvars, and I was glad enough to get
his arm. I wish you heard him talk, Tillotson.
It's as fine, every bit, as a book, and so instructive!
And I was so glad for her sake, for, you
know, it took off her thoughts, for she was
always, always looking out for you. 'Nunkey,'
she was always saying, 'd'ye think he'll come
over by tonight's boat?' or,'I wish to God,
nunkey, he'd come! What on the face of the
earth keeps him! I am wretched and miserable
without his company, nunkey!' In fact, I can't
tell you half what she said—no, nor a quarter.
I give you my honour and word this is all true,
every word of it.* By the way, we saw the
new opera, and the first night too, the finest
thing I ever heard in the whole course of my
life. Drums and trumpets and everything, and
a woman with a voice that would have
astonished you, all she went through! I never
heard anything like the runs and quavers she did.
And a very fine woman, too; though of course
there's no place like Paris for fine women.

* May we not suspect that this was one of our
captain's sinless falsehoods, written for the best of
purposes?

"When we were going away and settling with
Mr. Meurice himself,* as elegant-mannered a
man as you'd ask to meet in Hyde Park, I found
that our travelling friend was going too, which,
between you and me, I was uncommonly glad
of. For to hear the pair of them talk was really
fine, and to hear him on the gold mines, and
how he had to shoot the fellow—but by all
accounts he was a regular scoundrel, and serve
him right—who just cut the bridle of the leading
horse. And he certainly might have got off
scot free, and our friend within an ace of
having to begin the world again from the post,
when, as I say, he caught him, getting out his
firelock just in time. But you should hear him
tell the story himself.

* This was the manager, whom our captain
always addressed as "Mr. Meurice," and whose
name was Fleury, who spoke English admirably,
and had many conversations with the captain at
his glass bureau. Meurice himself, as the reader
well knows, has been dead many years.

"They tell me it was an uncommonly fine
country all the way down, and you could see
them making the wine, and the women, the
creatures! with their backs bent double, groping
and stubbling under the bushes. Between you
and me, I never dozed so much in my life, for
the sun was uncommon strong, and the carriages
very close. But, egad! they had plenty of
talk between them, and kept it up in fine style,
till we got to the champagne station, as I call it,
and we had half a bottle for, 'pon my word, a
couple of francs, I believe. How it pays the
creatures, I don't know. And, I declare, the
fellow-traveller was quite in spirits, as the pair
laughed and talked."

Mr. Tillotson looked off the page a moment
at this passage. "I thought it would be this
way," he said, a little bitterly. "It was only
one of the many mistakes."

"You can't imagine (went on the captain) of
what use he has been to us. Looked about and
got us these nice lodgings, did everything in
the nicest and most gentlemanly way, and, I
declare to you, Tillotson, I could hardly get him
to come and take his little bit of dinner with
us. I can tell you, there are all sorts of tip-top
people here, and though they talk of some fine
women, they're not healthy-looking, you know,
the creatures! and they tell me suffering a
great deal. Fellow-traveller plucking up a great
deal, and enjoying it all. And really the people
are so civil in calling and leaving their cards,
that it is hard to put them off. Sir Thomas
Rumbold and Lady Rumbold were here yesterday
—quite the tip-top people of the place—and
have asked us to a little party to-night. Egad!
it was lucky I brought my dress-coat and satin
stock! And Sir Thomas says he recollects
perfectly meeting General Shortall in Paris.
He is in parliament, and quite friendly, and
asked me for some of the Irish snuff. Lucky
I brought a canister."

Thus the captain prattled on for another page
or two. Some one came in and interrupted