ltimately, Andrew somehow contrived to stick a hint or two about the
terrible dinner in Evan's quivering flesh. He did it as delicately as
possible, half begging pardon, and perspiring profusely. Evan grasped
his hand, and thanked him. Caroline's illness was now explained to him.

'I'll take Caroline with me to-morrow,' he said. 'Louisa wishes to
stay--there 's a pic-nic. Will you look to her, and bring her with you?'

'My dear Van,' replied Andrew, 'stop with Louisa? Now, in confidence,
it's as bad as a couple of wives; no disrespect to my excellent good
Harry at home; but Louisa--I don't know how it is--but Louisa, you lose
your head, you're in a whirl, you're an automaton, a teetotum! I haven't
a notion of what I've been doing or saying since I came here. My
belief is, I 've been lying right and left. I shall be found out to a
certainty: Oh! if she's made her mind up for the pic-nic, somebody must
stop. I can only tell you, Van, it's one perpetual vapour-bath to me.
There 'll be room for two in my trousers when I get back. I shall have
to get the tailor to take them in a full half.'

Here occurred an opening for one of those acrid pleasantries which
console us when there is horrid warfare within.

'You must give me the work,' said Evan, partly pleased with his hated
self for being able to jest on the subject, as a piece of preliminary
self-conquest.

'Aha!' went Andrew, as if the joke were too good to be dwelt on; 'Hem';
and by way of diverting from it cleverly and naturally, he remarked that
the weather was fine. This made Evan allude to his letter written from
Lymport, upon which Andrew said: 'tush! pish! humbug! nonsense! won't
hear a word. Don't know anything about it. Van, you're going to be a
brewer. I say you are. You're afraid you can't? I tell you, sir, I've
got a bet on it. You're not going to make me lose, are you--eh? I have,
and a stiff bet, too. You must and shall, so there's an end. Only
we can't make arrangements just yet, my boy. Old Tom--very good old
fellow--but, you know--must get old Tom out of the way, first. Now go
and dress for dinner. And Lord preserve us from the Great Mel to-day!'
Andrew mumbled as he turned away.

Evan could not reach his chamber without being waylaid by the Countess.
Had he remembered the sister who sacrificed so much for him? 'There,
there!' cried Evan, and her hand closed on the delicious golden whispers
of bank-notes. And, 'Oh, generous Andrew! dear good Evan!' we