Lady Julia always directed her letters for her young friend to his office, and there he received the one now given to the reader. When he had read it he made a memorandum as to the commissions, and then threw himself back in his armchair to think over the tidings communicated to him. All the facts stated he had known before; that Lady De Courcy was in London, and that her son-in-law, Mr. Crosbie, whose wife—Lady Alexandrina—had died some twelve months since at Baden Baden, was at variance with her respecting money which he supposed to be due to him. But there was that in Lady Julia’s letter which was wormwood to him. Lily Dale was again thinking of this man, whom she had loved in old days, and who had treated her with monstrous perfidy! It was all very well for Lady Julia to be sure that Lily Dale would never desire to see Mr. Crosbie again; but John Eames was by no means equally certain that it would be so. “The tidings of her death disturbed her!” said Johnny, repeating to himself certain words out of the old lady’s letter. “I know they disturbed me. I wish she could have lived forever. If he ever ventures to show himself within ten miles of Allington, I’ll see if I cannot do better than I did the last time I met him!” Then there came a knock at the door, and the private secretary, finding himself to be somewhat annoyed by the disturbance at such a moment, bade the intruder enter in angry voice. “Oh, it’s you, Cradell, is it? What can I do for you?” Mr. Cradell, who now entered, and who, as before said, was an old ally of John Eames, was a clerk of longer standing in the department than his friend. In age he looked to be much older, and he had left with him none of that appearance of the gloss of youth which will stick for many years to men who are fortunate in their worldly affairs. Indeed it may be said that Mr. Cradell was almost shabby in his outward appearance, and his brow seemed to be laden with care, and his eyes were dull and heavy.
“I thought I’d just come in and ask you how you are,” said Cradell.
“I’m pretty well, thank you; and how are you?”
“Oh, I’m pretty well—in health, that is. You see one has so many things to think of when one has a large family. Upon my word, Johnny, I think you’ve been lucky to keep out of it.”
“I have kept out of it, at any rate; haven’t I?”
“Of course; living with you as much as I used to do, I know the whole story of what has kept you single.”
“Don’t mind about that, Cradell; what is it you want?”
“I mustn’t let you suppose, Johnny, that I’m grumbling about my lot. Nobody knows better than you what a trump I got in my wife.”
“Of course you did;—an excellent woman.”
“And if I cut you out a little there, I’m sure you never felt malice against me for that.”
“Never for a moment, old fellow.”
“We all have our luck, you know.”
“Your luck has been a wife and family. My luck has been to be a bachelor.”
“You may say a family,” said Cradell. “I’m sure that Amelia does the best she can; but we are desperately pushed some times—desperately pushed. I never was so bad, Johnny, as I am now.”
“So you said the last time.”
“Did I? I don’t remember it. I didn’t think I was so bad then. But, Johnny, if you can let me have one more fiver now I have made arrangements with Amelia how I’m to pay you off by thirty shillings a month—as I get my salary. Indeed I have. Ask her else.”
“I’ll be shot if I do.”
“Don’t say that, Johnny.”
“It’s no good your Johnnying me, for I won’t be Johnnyed out of another shilling. It comes too often, and there’s no reason why I should do it. And what’s more, I can’t afford it. I’ve people of my own to help.”
“But oh, Johnny, we all know how comfortable you are. And I’m sure no one rejoiced as I did when the money was left to you. If it had been myself I could hardly have thought more of it. Upon my solemn word and honour if you’ll let me have it this time, it shall be the last.”
“Upon my word and honour then, I won’t. There must be an end to everything.”
Although Mr. Cradell would probably, if pressed, have admitted the truth of this last
