ant and Emilia drove about the City. He showed her
all the great buildings, and dilated on the fabulous piles of wealth
they represented, taking evident pleasure in her exclamations of
astonishment.

"Yes, yes; they may despise us City fellows. I say, 'Come and see,'
that's all! Now, look up that court. Do you see three dusty windows
on the second floor? That man there could buy up any ten princes in
Europe--excepting one or two Austrians or Russians. He wears a coat just
like mine."

"Does he?" said Emilia, involuntarily examining the one by her side.

"We don't show our gold-linings, in the City, my dear."

"But, you are rich, too."

"Oh! I--as far as that goes. Don't talk about me. I'm--I'm still cold in
the feet. Now, look at that corner house. Three months ago that man was
one of our most respected City merchants. Now he's a bankrupt, and can't
show his head. It was all rotten. A medlar! He tampered with documents;
betrayed trusts. What do you think of him?"

"What was it he did?" asked Emilia.

Mr. Pole explained, and excused him; then he explained, and abused him.

"He hadn't a family, my dear. Where did the money go? He's called a
rascal now, poor devil! Business brings awful temptations. You think,
this'll save me! You catch hold of it and it snaps. That'll save me;
but you're too heavy, and the roots give way, and down you go lower and
lower. Lower and lower! The gates of hell must be very low down if one
of our bankrupts don't reach 'em." He spoke this in a deep underbreath.
"Let's get out of the City. There's no air. Look at that cloud. It's
about over Brookfield, I should say."

"Dear Brookfield!" echoed Emilia, feeling her heart fly forth to sing
like a skylark under the cloud.

"And they're not satisfied with it," murmured Mr. Pole, with a voice of
unwonted bitterness.

At the hotel, he was received very cordially by Mrs. Chickley, and
Simon, the old waiter.

"You look as young as ever, ma'am," Mr. Pole complimented her
cheerfully, while he stamped his feet on the floor, and put forward
Emilia as one of his girls; but immediately took the landlady aside, to
tell her that she was "merely a charge--a ward--something of that sort;"
admitting, gladly enough, that she was a very nice young lady. "She's a
genius, ma'am, in music:--going to do wonders. She's not one of them."
And Mr. Pole informed Mrs. Chickley that when they came to town, they
usually slept in one or other of the great squares. H