paid him a slavish adulation, " that it was a great
pity they were all going so slow!" " It was the
most splendid concern in London, and might be
worked to any extent, and without any rash
speculation." He never went beyond this, or
vouchsafed details. Yet such words sank deep.
Latterly, too, it had been noticed that he had
relapsed into his gloom and abstraction, and began
to whisper. And it was a pity a more go-ahead
sort of man had not been "brought in."

Mr. Tillotson, too, had himself always seemed
to shrink from the great Lackson. He was
too gentle to pronounce any opinion; but when
the great Roofing Company question came on,
he calmly but firmly opposed it on what were
indeed fair and cautious principles. That day's
discussion was long remembered in the office.
Mr. Tillotson had not come down until late. He
had stayed at home in his study, in that abstraction
which had lately come upon him. There
was some bazaar at Hanover-square, and Mrs.
Tillotson had gone there in her carriage,
exquisitely dressed, to go through some promised
duty. For with all her troubles she felt it her
pride to go through the offices that society
required of her, and dressed and kept up such
importance as became the wife of the rich Mr.
Tillotson. From the window of her Brougham
flashing was seen that sad and pensive face, and
men in the street looked after it and
wondered whose the "gorgeous hair was."

The discussion had come on about four
o'clock, and was continued for a couple of hours.
Every moment Mr. Tillotson had been growing
firmer, and more animated, and more convincing
in his opposition. He showed that such schemes
were full of dangers; pointed to other concerns
that had followed the same course, and had
toppled over and come down in ruins; was there
not This House, and lately That House, which
had been the talk of every one? Money was
the commodity it was their business to deal
with; money had brought them success, and to
money they should keep.

Up to this point the great Lackson had
remained silent; but when he saw this confirmed
opposition, a look of impatience and scorn came
into his face, and to the astonishment of his
colleagues he began to speak for the first time,
with great energy and almost sarcasm. " I
find," said the great Lackson, " I have made a
mistake. I have come among a cautious set of
gentlemen. I was asked, I was pressed to do
this. There were people who almost thought
it worth while going on their knees to me.
I never moved in the matter. It's been a great
sacrifice altogether, and I tell you the truth now
plainly; this sort of fiddling work and picking
one's steps couldn't pay me—couldn't pay me.
I tell you the truth, I did not come in on these
terms. There's no harm done, you know, except
so far as it's made me lose time and money.
But still, I tell you plainly, I can't stay, and it's
better we should part now. I can't afford to
lose my time, and so, gentlemen——"

And the great Lackson pushed back his chair,
and, to the consternation of the board, prepared
to go.

Mr. Tillotson only smiled; then said, gravely,
"I have spoken what I thought would be best
for us all to do. Decide now, irrespective of
me. But I warn you, take care what you are
doing."

The great Lackson, who seemed to be now, in
respect of reserve and cool phlegm, no longer
the great Lackson, answered with great temper
and heat, " What do you warn them against,
sir? What arc the grounds of your caution? I
require, and am entitled to know. Perhaps there
are suspicions," added the great Lackson,
scornfully.

It was growing dark. The sitting had been
protracted far longer than usual. There was
anxiety in all faces; but they seemed to go with
the great Lackson's. The danger of losing that
influential man's support struck them with terror.
At that moment the lamps were being brought
in by the bank servants, one of whom laid a
card before Mr. Tillotson, and whispered that
"the gentleman was in a hurry, and required
to see him particular."

He got up carelessly, perhaps glad of the
excuse, walked over to the table where the
servants were still putting final touches to their
lamps, and read the name. It ran:

"MR. CHARLES EASTWOOD.
I wish to see you: you can guess for what"

The servants never noticed the half cry, the
strange gasp of horror and surprise, the twitch
that passed over his face. The card fluttered
down from his fingers, was picked up reverently
and offered to him, but he could not see it. He
stood there fixed, staring, trembling; his eyes
turned on the place where the card had been.

Suddenly he roused himself, and walked
slowly from the room. One of the bank
servants went solemnly before him and officially
threw open the door of the parlour. Before
it closed, he heard the visitor's cheerful voice
say, " Well, fifteen years since that night, Tillotson,
and here I am back again."

That interview lasted more than half an hour.
Once Mr. Tillotson's pale face came to the door
and bade the same servant bring him down a
blank cheque, which was done. At the end of
this time the visitor and Mr. Tillotson came
out together; but another Mr. Tillotson, a worn,
stooped, dazed, and hopeless man. The same
bank servant showing out the visitor, a wild,
inflamed, unmoneyed-looking man, heard him
say:

"Take care, my boy, now; be up to time, you
know." To which the other replied in a sad and
almost broken voice:

"You may depend on me!"

Mr. Tillotson almost tottered up-stairs.
When he entered the board-room again, he
looked round on them all with a listless wonder,
as if surprised to find them still there. He
put his hand to his head, as if in pain. They
called to him, " What do you say now,
Tillotson?"

But he still seemed in a dream. He took his
place mechanically in the chair. The great Lackson
was still warm with his protest, and was