and perfectly happy. And he would do very well if we
could only prevent him from going out in his last new suit of clothes,
smirking and smiling and inviting everybody to his approaching marriage
with the handsomest woman in England. It ends of course in the boys
pelting him, and in his coming here crying to me, covered with mud. The
moment his clothes are cleaned again he falls back into his favorite
delusion, and struts about before the church gates, in the character of
a bridegroom, waiting for Miss Gwilt. We must get the poor wretch taken
care of somewhere for the rest of the little time he has to live. Who
would ever have thought of a man at his age falling in love? And who
would ever have believed that the mischief that woman's beauty has done
could have reached as far in the downward direction as our superannuated
old clerk?

"Good-by, for the present, my dear boy. If you see a particularly
handsome snuff-box in Paris, remember--though your father scorns
Testimonials--he doesn't object to receive a present from his son.

"Yours affectionately,

"A. PEDGIFT, Sen.

"POSTSCRIPT.--I think it likely that the account you mention in the
French papers, of a fatal quarrel among some foreign sailors in one of
the Lipari Islands, and of the death of their captain, among others, may
really have been a quarrel among the scoundrels who robbed Mr. Armadale
and scuttled his yacht. _Those_ fellows, luckily for society, can't
always keep up appearances; and, in their case, Rogues and Retribution
do occasionally come into collision with each other."

II. MIDWINTER.

The spring had advanced to the end of April. It was the eve of Allan's
wedding-day. Midwinter and he had sat talking together at the great
house till far into the night--till so far that it had struck twelve
long since, and the wedding day was already some hours old.

For the most part the conversation had turned on the bridegroom's plans
and projects. It was not till the two friends rose to go to rest that
Allan insisted on making Midwinter speak of himself.

"We have had enough, and more than enough, of _my_ future," he began,
in his bluntly straightforward way. "Let's say something now, Midwinter,
about yours. You have promised me, I know, that, if you take to
literature, it shan't part us, and that, if you go on a sea-voyage, you
will remember, when you come back, that my house is your home. But this
is the last chance we have of being together in our