round, a "glorious dividend" of eighteen and a
half per cent was waiting for the shareholders,
being actually three per cent more than was
anticipated; so that, being in a sort of monetary
rapture, the company knew not how to show
their gratitude to their intelligent directory
except by adopting every proposal they made.
Mr. Tillotson faintly protested. But, as the
captain said, " it would be the making of him,"
and a blessing sent by Providence, and he could
not well resist the pressure put upon him. And
so thus Henry Tillotson, Esq., became chairman
of the United Foncier Credit Company.

It was found by this time that the premises
of the Foncier were hardly magnificent enough
for its prosperity. A wine-merchant, next door,
had been in difficulties, and with great sagacity
the secretary had come to his aid with liberality,
taking a mortgage on the premises to " secure
the company." In course of time, the wine-
merchant having " arranged" with his creditors
once or twice, and received all the indulgence
to failing trade, finally collapsed, and it became
open to the Foncier to secure these desirable
premises for a mere song—i.e. twenty-five
thousand pounds. Some said that scheming
company was always lucky; others said—a
dissatisfied shareholder, perhaps—that everybody
seemed to think they could have " a pull" at
the bank. It was agreed, however, that it was a
song. In a very short time " middle-age"
Jenkinson was called in again; that architect had
submitted some gorgeous plans, based on the
designs of the Louvre, and very soon—without
suspension of business—the workmen were
busy, and the scaffoldings were erected, and
cream-laid stone, loamy as bride-cake sugar,
was being piled up, and the new banking palace
soon grew towards completion. In such daring
schemes, to say nothing of " pushing on trade,"
Mr. Tillotson of necessity was forced to take
interest, and thus gradually he was being drawn
back into things of common life. At his
own house at home he lived a solitary and
dejected life—sitting alone through the long
evenings. He had but few servants in his
"fine" house, and among them that Martha
Malcolm, who had not left him. That strange
gaunt woman had returned home from her
mistress's death-bed more gaunt, more silent, more
gloomy, and perhaps more blunt and disrespectful
than before—things of which Mr. Tillotson
took no notice, and which, perhaps, were
more in tone with his state of mind, and when
encouraged to send her away, said she was a good
faithful creature. Miss Diamond remained with
the captain, keeping house for him, reading for
him sometimes in the evening, busy with a
monotonous round of work. But Mr. Tillotson
she rarely saw, and never sought; and it
seemed, indeed, when she met him, as though she
shrank a little, looking at him with a curious
suspicious look. Though very often she came
to see Martha Malcolm when he was away at
the bank; and the two women sat together in
the parlour for hours, and perhaps talked over
the " little girl" they so loved, and who was
gone from them. But it was known that later
she was to go away to France, and give herself
up to a religious life.

One of those days, when the chairman was
thus away at his bank, with all the papers about
a new loan to the Plata Railway—a concern
supposed to be getting into rather failing
health—before him, a card was brought in—
"MR. TILNEY." There were other cards of
that gentleman up at Mr. Tillotson' s house,
for he had called very often, and periodically,
too, but without success. Mr. Tillotson was
generally at his bank, as he might have known;
or Mr. Tilney had the misfortune to find the
door opened to him by Martha Malcolm, who
confronted him, adhering to the door like an
Assyrian figure, and gazing out with the
impassibility of such images. She was as unyielding
as if she were of stone, and, in truth, rather
appalled Mr. Tilney, who retired in some
confusion. This morning, however, when he looked
half mechanically at the card that was put into
his hand, soft memories seemed to rise from it,
like a scent from a " box of opened flowers;"
and with the scent came also dreamy pictures,
and a feeling of peace, and by-and-by one of
happiness. The name seemed like a dream.
Association, as we know, does so much, and that
so mysteriously; and he recalled then—oddly,
too—another card of Mr. Tilney's, which he
had found on his table long, long before, down
at the cathedral town, and on which was
written in pencil, " Don't forget us at seven."
He put aside the Plata Railway papers, and sent
down for his friend.

Mr. Tilney came in with alacrity, but with a
face composed to grief. But he was greatly
changed; neat and clean as ever in his dress,
though old fashioned, and perhaps old, too:
yet still there were signs of wear and tear.
The tall straight back was beginning to bend,
and something about the collar seemed to
suggest tightening and bracings to keep
together what would otherwise have spread and
gone wild. Above all, since that night, there
had come a soft " fishy " stare into his eyes, and
at times a stiifness round the edges of his lips,
and, possibly, a little tremble in his hands.

He was really glad to see his friend. " My
dear Tillotson," he said, taking the other's hand
into both of his, " I am so glad to see you. I
need not tell you how I felt with you; how we
all felt with you."

"Yes, yes,'" said Mr. Tillotson, hastily; "I
know that. I have had my troubles since we
met last. They come to us all pretty
impartially."

He said this without seeing that Mr. Tilney
winced a little.

"I believe so," said he. "But you know,
my dear friend, what the clergy tell us. Not
later than last Sunday, at the CHAPEL ROYAI,
sir (I never miss), I heard Dr. McCayenne say,
that whom the Lord loved He took care to
scourge with a rod of iron. No, it wasn't last
Sunday; let me see. Brindley, the bishop, I
think;" and in some doubt, Mr. Tilney paused