participation in her conjugal possessions could have despatched her to
that hateful place, I doubt. She went: she would not let Andrew be out of
her sight. Growing haughtier toward him at every step, she advanced to
the strange old shop. EVAN HARRINGTON over the door! There the Countess,
having meantime returned to her state of womanhood, shared her shudders.
They entered, and passed in to Mrs. Mel, leaving their footman,
apparently, in the rear. Evan was not visible. A man in the shop, with a
yard measure negligently adorning his shoulders, said that Mr. Harrington
was in the habit of quitting the shop at five.

'Deuced good habit, too,' said Andrew.

'Why, sir,' observed another, stepping forward, 'as you truly say--yes.
But--ah! Mr. Andrew Cogglesby? Pleasure of meeting you once in Fallow
field! Remember Mr. Perkins?--the lawyer, not the maltster. Will you do
me the favour to step out with me?'

Andrew followed him into the street.

'Are you aware of our young friend's good fortune?' said Lawyer Perkins.
'Yes. Ah! Well!--Would you believe that any sane person in his condition,
now--nonsense apart--could bring his mind wilfully to continue a beggar?
No. Um! Well; Mr. Cogglesby, I may tell you that I hold here in my hands
a document by which Mr. Evan Harrington transfers the whole of the
property bequeathed to him to Lady Jocelyn, and that I have his orders to
execute it instantly, and deliver it over to her ladyship, after the will
is settled, probate, and so forth: I presume there will be an arrangement
about his father's debts. Now what do you think of that?'

'Think, sir,--think!' cried Andrew, cocking his head at him like an
indignant bird, 'I think he's a damned young idiot to do so, and you're a
confounded old rascal to help him.'

Leaving Mr. Perkins to digest his judgement, which he had solicited,
Andrew bounced back into the shop.

CHAPTER XLV

IN WHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CENTRE OF ATTRACTION

Under the first lustre of a May-night, Evan was galloping over the
moon-shadowed downs toward Beckley. At the ridge commanding the woods,
the park, and the stream, his horse stopped, as if from habit, snorted,
and puffed its sides, while he gazed steadily across the long lighted
vale. Soon he began to wind down the glaring chalk-track, and reached
grass levels. Here he broke into a round pace, till, gaining the first
straggling cottages of the village, he knocked the head of his whip
against the garden