THE
   SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."

                  BOOK III.

CHAPTER IV. THE SKY CLEARING.

In a week Tilney came to call on Mr.
Tillotson.

"I have been so happy ever since," he said.
"I look upon it as a great blessing, too, indeed.
The Almighty is very good to me; and as for
Ada, she is as good as gold, every bit—
perhaps," added Mr. Tilney, reflecting, "much
better. I give her to a good and virtuous man,
who will make her happy and contented, and I
can feel that I have discharged my duty by her,
that—as we all know well, Tillotson, and have
been told from the pulpit—that our days may
be long in the land." Suddenly changing from
this perversion of a scriptural promise, Mr.
Tilney said, with alacrity, "Look here, mail in
this morning; the beauty and regularity of that
company is surprising—the P. and O., as they
call it. Everything has its appointed times and
seasons, and unless they observed regularity and
punctuality, Tillotson, why, you know, they
might as well—as well blow up. Where would we
all be? A letter from our friend at Gibraltar,
who, I will say, take him for all in all, has the
knack of coming down straight on his legs
wherever you put him. There's the new
governor, Sir Henry Herons, K.C.B., has put
him on his staff at first go off. And, my dear
fellow, governors, you know, are like other
people, and will have daughters—eh?" Mr.
Tilney's eyes assumed a deep significance.
"Now, can we blame 'em? I always said the
fellow knew how to do for himself. Set him
down in the Windward Islands, or the
Archipelago, or on the top of the Dook's Monument,
or anywhere you'd name, he'd do. He is all in
all with the governor and his daughter—a girl
of engaging person, sir, and, I believe, a very
fine provision. But the connexion, you know—
connexion is money—and the Herons are
cousins of the Le Despensers, and that's the
way. Wait, I have my glasses here; I'll just
read you a bit of it. Where is it?" And he
read: " 'Louisa is a pretty name, is not it?
I'm beginning to think so. Others are beginning
to think Ross a prettier one than Herons. To
tell you the truth, I am getting tired of being a
vagabond, and want to settle, and when you
have a fine splendid girl—a true thumper, you
know—with money, and her father a governor
I begin to get shaken. I'm going to think it
over to-night. They are dying to have me—the
girl, of course, and the parent. I suppose,
because of my prospects. He was always asking
me about it, and told me that he had a letter
from a very well-known lawyer, who says everybody
is agreed that I am secure. So as soon as
we sent that white—ahem!——' " and Mr.
Tilney began coughing in some embarrassment.
"Speaking of his attorney, you know. Then,
he goes on, 'It is very likely I shall screw
myself up to the point.'"

A smile passed over Mr. Tillotson's face.
"I am very glad to hear this," he said;
"and, shall I confess it, for more selfish
reasons than you suppose. Since I saw you last,
I have been a little troubled on his account, for
he really had some claim here; but really it
does seem as if this idea had been suggested by
Providence—everything, I believe, turns out
for the best in the end."

"No doubt, Tillotson," said his friend. "But,
between you and me, I had my misgivings.
He is such a wild mad devil, as I may call him,
that there was no knowing how he would have
taken it. By this time he knows all, and
I bet you," added Mr. Tilney, smiling, "a
couple of glasses of crusted old port, ten
years in bottle, sir, that at this moment there is
a little case of those silver what-d'ye-call-'ems
—filigree earrings, brooch, stomacher, and
comb—on its way to England, as a little
wedding present; something Moorish—a rich
shawl. He has good impulses, say what you
like."

Mr. Tillotson's spirits were rising every hour.
For the first time in his life Mr. Tilney had
administered real practical comfort. His friend
hastened to accept the bet that had been
offered so pleasantly, and discharged his
possible obligation by ringing the bell and ordering
up some wine for the visitor.

These were, indeed, the happiest days in Mr.
Tillotson's life. He lived and moved as in a
dream. The earth had new-born charms for him.
Every day he was out at the pastoral little
village, and there he met Ada's tranquil face;
not, indeed, overjoyed, nor reflecting back his
open unconcealed rapture, but full of a calm