beginning to end. A bad investment in every way. It paid
nothing. It led to nothing.

"I hope, sir," said L'Estrange, as he gazed at the strange expression
of preoccupation in the other's face,--"I hope, sir, I have not been
indiscreet in my request?"

"What _was_ your request?" asked Colonel Bramleigh, bluntly, and with a
look of almost sternness.

"I had asked you, sir, for a letter to Lady Augusta," said the curate,
half offended at the manner of the last question.

"A letter to Lady Augusta?" repeated Bramleigh, dwelling on each word,
as though by the effort he could recall to his mind something that had
escaped him.

"I mean, sir, with reference to this appointment,--the chaplaincy,"
interposed L'Estrange; for he was offended at the hesitation, which
he thought implied reluctance or disinclination on Colonel Bramleigh's
part, and he hastened to show that it was not any claim he was
preferring to her ladyship's acquaintance, but simply his desire to
obtain her interest in his behalf.

"Influence! influence!" repeated Bramleigh to himself. "I have no doubt
she has influence; such persons generally have. It is one of the
baits that catch them. This little glimpse of power has a marvellous
attraction--and these churchmen know so well how to display all their
seductive arts before the eager eyes of the newly won convert. Yes, I
am sure you are right, sir; Lady Augusta is one most likely to have
influence--you shall have the letter you wish for. I do not say I will
write it to-day, for I have a heavy press of correspondence before me;
but if you will come up to-morrow, by luncheon time, or to dinner--why
not dine here?"

"I think I 'd rather come up early, sir."

"Well, then, early be it. I 'll have the letter for you. I wish I could
remember something I know I had to say to you. What was it? What was it?
Nothing of much consequence, perhaps; but still I feel as if--eh--don't
you feel so too?"

"I have not the slightest clew, sir, to what you mean."

"It wasn't about the mine,--no. I think you see your way _there_ clearly
enough. It may be a good thing, or it may not. Cutbill is like the rest
of them; not a greater rogue, perhaps, nor need he be. They _are_ such
shrewd fellows; and as the money is your sister's,--trust money, too,--I
declare, I'd be cautious."

L'Estrange mumbled some words of assent; he saw that Bramleigh's manner
betokened exhaustion and weariness, and he was eager to be gone. "Till
to-m