answer the advertisement. Thanks
to my inquiries on the spot, I know Major Milroy to be a poor man; and
we will fix the salary you ask at a figure that is sure to tempt him. As
for the style of the letter, if you and I together can't write a modest
and interesting application for the vacant place, I should like to know
who can?

"All this, however, is still in the future. For the present my advice
is, stay where you are, and dream to your heart's content, till you hear
from me again. I take in _The Times_ regularly, and you may trust my
wary eye not to miss the right advertisement. We can luckily give the
major time, without doing any injury to our own interests; for there
is no fear just yet of the girl's getting the start of you. The public
reception, as we know, won't be ready till near the end of the month;
and we may safely trust young Armadale's vanity to keep him out of his
new house until his flatterers are all assembled to welcome him.

"It's odd, isn't it, to think how much depends on this half-pay
officer's decision? For my part, I shall wake every morning now with
the same question in my mind: If the major's advertisment appears, which
will the major say--Thorpe Ambrose, or London?

"Ever, my dear Lydia, affectionately yours,

"MARIA OLDERSHAW."

II. ALLAN AS A LANDED GENTLEMAN.

Early on the morning after his first night's rest at Thorpe Ambrose,
Allan rose and surveyed the prospect from his bedroom window, lost in
the dense mental bewilderment of feeling himself to be a stranger in his
own house.

The bedroom looked out over the great front door, with its portico, its
terrace and flight of steps beyond, and, further still, the broad sweep
of the well-timbered park to close the view. The morning mist nestled
lightly about the distant trees; and the cows were feeding sociably,
close to the iron fence which railed off the park from the drive
in front of the house. "All mine!" thought Allan, staring in blank
amazement at the prospect of his own possessions. "Hang me if I can beat
it into my head yet. All mine!"

He dressed, left his room, and walked along the corridor which led to
the staircase and hall, opening the doors in succession as he passed
them.

The rooms in this part of the house were bedrooms and dressing-rooms,
light, spacious, perfectly furnished; and all empty, except the one
bed-chamber next to Allan's, which had been appropriated to Midwinter.
He was still sleeping when his f