chignons, and crinoline, shall dissolve,
and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave
not a rack behind.

THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "NEVER FORGOTTEN."

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER XXXII. ROSS.

How shall be described the soothing comfort
which the presence of Diamond brought with
it! How, while almost confounded with surprise
and astonishment at the presence of Mr.
Tillotson down there, he affected with infinite
dexterity to accept it as in the natural order
of things, rambling on with pleasant conventionalities,
until he suddenly stopped himself with
much alarm: " Tillotson! you're ill. What's
the matter, my clear friend? You're as white
as that tablecloth. Let me ring."

Tillotson detained him gently: " I am not
well, — that is, not quite well. But tell me
about this wretched business — I have strength
enough to hear that — tell me, has he gone?"

"Egad, he has," answered the captain. "He
was got away at last — shipped him this morning
at ten o'clock. Went off like a trump. He
had the good drop in him after all, and behaved
like a gentleman."

"Yes," said Mr. Tillotson, with surprising
calmness, and pressing his forehead as if in
pain; " yes, I see that now — I begin to see.
And about last night — tell me quickly. She
went down — not by herself?" he added wistfully.

"No!" said the captain, gaily; "not at all.
Have you got her note, eh?"

"Got her note!" said Mr. Tillotson, despairingly;
" no, no, no. She wrote to tell me she
was going down? Is that it?"

"My goodness!" said the captain, wondering.
"It must have gone astray. Egad! I
never was so astonished in my life. Only
old Tom the Bolshero is getting so many visits
from young and lovely ladies, that I think his
head will be turned. I had just got on the
dressin'-gown, and was taking the marker out
of Thaddeus o' Warsaw, and sitting down for a
good two or three pages' read, before putting
on the nightcap, when I declare if she wasn't
standing before me, with her bonnet on. Says
she to me, without a word more, 'Captain
Diamond, dear uncle, will you come down with
me to-night? Poor Ross is ill or dying, and
there isn't a second to be lost; and he has
written for me, beggin', beggin' — — '  ' 'Gad,
then, I will,' said I; 'give me the hand. As
far as you like, my dear; and proud I am to
see a lady of your spirit.'  And in a moment I
had the dressin'-gown off, and had slipped into
my coat. While I was doing this, egad! she
had written a note up to our friend Tilney, the
old boy, telling him to take a cab and post off
straight to you; to make all safe, you know.
She's a treasure of sense, so she is.'"

Another cry broke from Tillotson. All this
time the steel bands had been drawing tighter
over his chest; all this time the moral tension
and the excitement from that terrible night,
which had kept him up so far, had been gradually
giving way; and now came the discovery
of a fatal and irrevocable mistake to overwhelm
him. Those strained eyes had closed, and he
sank before the alarmed captain in a sort of
faint. It had indeed come about as described
by the captain.

Nothing could be more delicate than his tone
and behaviour to Mrs. Tillotson during the journey.
He was always reassuring her — for he
saw that she was uneasy — saying, "Now I
declare I'm thinking what a time it would be
before old Tom would have thought of this.
After all, my dear, it's the women that have the
heads of sense." Once, in spite of all his caution,
something slipped out that made Mr. Tillotson
colour, and speak a little vehemently:

"Poor Tillotson we supposed couldn't manage
it. Ill, eh, my dear? Or the business, was it?"
He could have cut his tongue out for this speech,
he said afterwards.

"It is idle concealing it from you, dear Captain
Diamond," said she, excitedly. "You can
guess why I should not have consulted him, in
this matter. Latterly these strange unfounded
suspicions — "

"Ah, to be sure," said the captain, in great
confusion; "quite right; always sensible. The
proper thing to do. Of course Tillotson will
say it's quite right."

"I only wish to do my duty," she said,
calmly. "In this matter I am almost indifferent.
If I had gone home — and we had
hardly a minute to spare — you know whether I
should have been able to come at all. Now
that this is to be the last of all this, we may
hope that we may begin a new life."

"To be sure, my dear; to be sure," said the
captain, reflectively.

In truth he was thinking to himself at that
moment, and thinking uneasily, of that "old
Bolshero" Tilney. Would he do what he was
told? He had a low opinion of that gentleman's
ability for practical life, though he liked his company.
Old Tilney, he had a suspicion, would go
on with his "blatherum," and sit "foostering"
there over his wine without stirring. This reflection
made him very uneasy; an uneasiness,
however, which he was careful to disguise.

By an hour before midnight they had arrived.
In a very short time the captain had found out
the best hotel, and had driven there; had then,
at her request, driven off to an obscure inn,
down near the docks, where he, whom they had
come to see, was lying. Her heart was in a
flutter, but she was quite calm outside. And
when the captain was going in by himself, "to
make sure, you know, that we have got hold of
the right shop, my dear," but in truth fearing
some bad news, she took his arm and entered
the house with him.

The landlord met them, and knew by instinct
they were the persons he expected: "I am