had unconsciously sprung began to evolve itself, and to present itself more and more clearly to my mind.

I was acting in a manner that belied my real character and motives. I was, to all outward appearance, the mere hireling, the paid puppet of the woman who was in reality the mistress of my soul. At first I thought of going back to York Place to return the purse, and tell her that in obeying her wishes I was actuated by sentiment and not by avarice. But a very little reflection told me that if I acted in such a manner there would be fixed between the wealthy lady and the penniless shop-boy an impassable gulf. She might, and probably would, misconstrue my motives. What she would certainly do, if she were still at York Place, for I had no proof that she lived there, would be to wish me good-night, and shut the door against me forever. The only possibility of winning her, I could see clearly, was to take the means that were thus offered to educate and fit myself for the sphere of society in which she lived, and trust to the chapter of accidents for an opportunity of meeting her and gaining her affection. So, resolving that I would make myself worthy to be her husband, and little doubting, in the fondness of the moment, that when I had done so we should meet, I got up and made my way home.

I went to Mr. Conder's shop the next morning, as I thought it would be more friendly, and more dignified, to see him myself before we parted. And, as I anticipated, he made no difficulty in terminating our engagement when I told him that I had come in for a few thousand pounds! After I left him I went to a shop where they sold ready-made clothes, to get some things for immediate use.

Three o'clock was the time that was arranged for these clothes to be delivered at Charlton Crescent. The intervening time I employed in going to different places in the city to pay some debts I owed, and then took a 'bus to the Angel, and got to Charlton Crescent at about ten minutes past three.

When I opened the door Mrs. Duncan (my landlady) came out of her parlor in a great state of excitement to tell me that there was a large parcel, and a letter, and a telegram in my bedroom; and that the letter had been left about half an hour before by such a fashionable-looking young gentleman, who had asked so particularly whether I had left any word before I went out as to when I would be likely to return.

I ran up to my bedroom. There, sure enough, was a large brown paper parcel on my bed, and on the chest of drawers a telegram and a letter, both of which were addressed to:

James Brooke, Esq., 8 Charlton Crescent, Islington, N.

The handwriting on the envelope of the letter attracted my attention. I guessed that the letter was from Mr. Chambers. But it was not addressed in the legal hand that I associated with a lawyer's letter. On the contrary, it was addressed in a very flowing and gentlemanly hand. I opened the telegram first, and read:

"William Chambers, 52 Bedford Row, W. C, to James Brooke, Esq., 8 Charlton Crescent, High Street, Islington, N.

"Please favor me with a call immediately you receive this. It is important that I should see you at once."

It had been handed in at the post-office at ten minutes past eleven o'clock. I then opened the letter, which ran as follows:

52 Bedford Row, W. C, July, 187-.

"Dear Sir.—I was in hopes that you would have been at home when my telegram was delivered. I wish to see you at your earliest convenience, so if you should get this letter in time to be at my office by six o'clock p.m., I shall be glad to see you this evening. If not I shall expect to see you at the above address at ten o'clock to-morrow (Thursday) morning.—I remain, yours faithfully,

William Chambers."

James Brooke, Esq.

It took me a little time to dress, but I got to Bedford Row shortly before five o'clock, and, after waiting for a few minutes in the outside office, was shown into Mr. Chambers' private room.

To tell the truth, I had been getting rather anxious as to the reception I should get from Mr. Chambers. Unless there was some deep reason which I could not fathom, or even guess at, it seemed hardly likely that any solicitor would encourage Miss Grey to marry a penniless shop-boy. It was only while I was on my way to Bedford Row that I had begun to see the matter in this light; and I had been preparing myself for an encounter with an imaginary lawyer who was as hard-featured as he was sure to be hard-headed. The appearance and manners, however, of the gentleman about whom I had been speculating rather vaguely, but very anxiously, gave me a complete surprise.

He was a tall, spare man with gray hair and whiskers, and a very kindly and intellectual countenance.

When I entered his room he came forward and shook hands with me very cordially, and then asked me to sit down in an arm-chair by his desk. After a few casual remarks, in which he mentioned that he had not gone to see Mr. Conder lest I might have seen him myself, and, perhaps, have given some version of the matter that would not tally with his, he continued:

"I have seen Miss Grey this morning, and she has told me of what took place yesterday. One of my principal objects in wishing to see you thus early is to place before you, as soon as possible—so that you may have time to consider the matter—what appears to me to be the real aspect of the case as far as you are concerned. I am a good deal older than you are, and have seen a great deal more of the world than you have, and, whether you may act on the advice that I am about to give you or not, you will, I am sure, when you have reflected on it, come to the conclusion that it is at least sensible, and well meant.

"Miss Grey has, then, I understand, proposed that you shall marry her on the condition that she settles £2,000 a year on you, while you pledge yourself never to seek to know her real name or anything more about her. And you have accepted the conditions. Am I right?"

"Quite right, sir."

"Now, my dear Mr. Brooke, if I were at your age, and if I were situated as you were when the offer was made to you, I am perfectly sure that I should have done exactly as you have done. But, if I had done so, I am sure that I should afterward have been the most miserable man alive. Two thousand a year is a fine income, but believe me, that money, like everything else, can be bought too dearly. In this case you are surrendering yourself to a bondage which, at present, you can hardly understand. That is a consideration I wish most strongly to impress upon you, and I ask you to reflect most seriously upon it. On the other hand, there is the question, What are you to do if this arrangement is broken off? It would be most cruel and unjust, it would be absurd, to ask you to break off the engagement unless you were otherwise provided for. That is a matter I have carefully considered with Miss Grey; and, as she is solely responsible for the engagement, I am authorized by her to say that if you wish to do that which I most strongly advise you for your own happiness to do, namely, to abandon the engagement, she will acknowledge the obligation that her conduct has imposed upon her by giving me £2,000 to hand over to you. Now, think well of the two sides of the question. On the one hand you are doomed to a life of celibacy—married to a woman whom you can never meet again. Wealthy, it is true; but whether wealth would be worth having under such circumstances, it is for you, from your knowledge of yourself, to say. On the other hand, with youth, and health, and brains, you start in the race of life with a clear £2,000. I have myself no interest in the matter. You are a stranger to me; Miss Grey is merely a client.