a thrill through
Frank Pratt, and he went back to his musty briefs as light as if
treading on air.

On reaching his chambers, though, it was to find Barnard, the solicitor,
waiting for him.

"Well, what news?" was Pratt's greeting.

"Nothing more," was the reply. "I've sent, and I've been myself. That
this Vanleigh has compromised himself in some way, so that his marriage
is impossible, I feel convinced; but a solution of the matter can only
come from one pair of lips."

"Well?"

"And they remain obstinately silent."

Volume 3, Chapter XIV.

A VISIT.

And the months glided on. Winter came, and in its turn gave place to
the promise of spring; that came, though, with its harsh eastern blasts
that threatened to extinguish the frail lamp of life still burning
opposite Richard's rooms.

He had responded to Pin's letter soon after its receipt, but he had
heard no more. His attempts at obtaining an engagement had proved
failures still; and so he had accepted his fate, and spent his time
reading hard, his sole pleasures being a visit across the road, or a
dinner with Frank Pratt.

Of the acts of the Rea family he knew little, save that they had
wintered in Cornwall, from which a letter came occasionally from
Humphrey or Mr Mervyn, both sent to the care of Frank Pratt, Esq.; and
in his, Humphrey had twice over expressed a wish to divide the property
with his old companion.

"I don't see why you shouldn't do so," Pratt had said. "It's Quixotic
not to accept his offer."

"Aut Caesar, aut nullus," was Richard's reply. "No, Franky, I'm too
proud. I could never go to Cornwall again but as master. Those days
are gone."

"But, Dick, old man!"

"My dear Franky," said Richard, dropping something of the misanthropical
bitterness that had come over him of late, "I am quite content as I am--
content to wait; some of these days a chance will turn up. I'll abide
my time."

"He's gone back to her," said Pratt, shaking his head. "Poor old
Dick!--some people would misjudge him cruelly. Well, time will show."

Pratt was quite right, Richard had gone back to Netta; for it promised
to be a fine afternoon, and on such days it had grown to be his custom
to devote the few shillings he could spare from his scanty income to the
payment of Sam Jenkles.

It was so this day. Sam was at the door by two, with the old horse
brushed up, and every worn buckle shining. Then Richard would go
upstairs, to find Netta with a br