altogether, to settle the matter inside his own
brain.

" I hope they are all well with you?" said
Mr. Tillotson, changing the subject. " Mrs.
Tilney, and Miss Augusta, and——"

"Perfectly, quite well, thank you, much obliged
to you; I shall take care to mention your kind
inquiries." (Mr. Tilney always fell into these
formalities even in the instance of old friends,
when he had not seen them for some time.)
"Thanks to Providence, who keeps off the wind
from even the lambs, sir, they are doing very
well. Though, by the way, no; I had quite forgot.
Poor Ada."

Mr. Tillotson started. "Nothing has happened
her? She is not——"

Mr. Tilney shook his head gloomily. "We
went through a great deal with his poor child.
Doctor after doctor, sir. Had 'em all in, one
after the other."

"I never heard," said Mr. Tillotson,
passionately—" never. They never told me. I
have been shut up here. I know nothing of what
goes on in the world. But tell me; she is well
now?"

"Well," said Mr. Tilney, plaintively; "we
may call her well: but you may conceive the
time we had of it. Doctor after doctor, I
assure you, and the best—Sir John Bellman. A
Brougham and a pair of horses always at the
door. Shut up myself in the study. But I
declare to the Almighty Providence—which blows
down every leaf, and every blade of grass, and
every single sparrow on the house-top—that I
don't grudge it. For she's a true noble girl,
sir, and was true to me when I wanted it. I
may say Jack Tilney, sir, would have had a
headstone over him now but for her. God bless
her! and you too, Tillotson. We all went
through enough that night."

"And what was the cause of all this?" asked
Mr. Tillotson, eagerly. "By the way, I am
very thoughtless, and think of nothing. This, I
know, is your lunch-time;" and he rang the
bell.

"0, come, now," said Mr. Tilney, in feeble
protest, " this is always the way. We are doing
very well as we are. Why, now?——Well, I'll
tell you about it." (Biscuits, and a rich and
creamy Scotch cake, and sherry, had appeared
with the rapidity of pantomime feast.) " You
recollect a man that used to be with us a good
deal, in and out, you know, up-stairs, down-
stairs, and in my lady's what d'ye call it?——"

"Ross—Mr. Ross. Perfectly."

"Ah, to be sure. Well, there it was, you
see. The up and down state of things, now this
way, now that, had a good deal to do with it.
(You follow me, don't you?) I'm afraid, a bad
fellow at bottom, with some fine impulses. Yes,
Tillotson, some fine impulses; not radically
bad——"

"But how?" said Mr. Tillotson, hesitating.

"Well, this how," said Mr. Tilney. " Since
he went away——"

"Why, he has gone?"

"0, God bless me, yes; to be sure," said
Mr. Tilney. " Recently at Gibraltar, you know,
with his regiment, the Buffs. Fine corps as
ever you saw. I knew some of 'em long ago,
when Lord Bob Hervey (they used to call him
' Kettle Blower,' about which a long story, sir)
and a lot more were in it. It's gone to the
bad now, I believe."

"And so he has left the country?" said Mr.
Tillotson.

"And as you may conceive, Tillotson, the
worst accounts. Got among the Jews out there.
Glad enough these rogues to discount any
rotten stick of a chance he may have. Though,
my dear friend, I should hardly speak of it
before you. And it is very hard between the two,
you one——"

"Don't mind," said Mr. Tillotson; "it's sure
to be his. When my poor wife was alive, I
always considered it a little hobby of hers.
Now, of course, I can say little, except, indeed,
that she had some last wishes in reference to it,
so I must go on with it, though merely for that
reason."

"Ah! to be sure," said Mr. Tilney. "We
heard from him only two days ago. The
strangest letter, I declare, Tillotson. I think
he's a little wrong here, you know. The idea of
a man getting into a fury on paper, and with a
pen in his hand. Wants money," added Mr.
Tilney, taking out the letter; "and really, now,
after his behaviour, if I were to tell you the
story, Tillotson, it would make your hair stand
up straight with horror. A family thus matured
him, Tillotson, and even fed him, I may say;
it was very shocking."

"Indeed, I can make no excuse for him," said
Mr. Tillotson. " Indeed, I do not understand
him. To me he has some unaccountable
antipathy. God knows, I never did anything
to him."

"Precisely; and what I have always said.
No one could behave handsomer; I must say
that for you. Now, just read that, and see what
you think of it. He knows well enough we have
nothing to spare, and yet——"

Mr. Tillotson, strangely taking an interest in
everything that indirectly even concerned that
family, read eagerly:

"New Barracks, Gibraltar."
(It began abruptly, and was addressed to Ada
Millwood.)

"I wish you would try and answer my letters,
or get them to answer them, more regularly.
It puts double the trouble on me, to be writing
the same twice over; so try and be careful, will
you, this time.

"I suppose you are all going on in the same
old round, Mrs. T. trying hard with the cobwebs
(she'll understand me), to get them round the
legs of some unlucky poor devil of a soldier,
who some way walks off in the end—and well for
him, too. He doesn't know the loss he has had
in Augusta and her sister—fine domestic
creatures, well suited for ordering dinner and
bringing up children. Mrs. T. has trained them
well; and when she lies down for the last time