No wonder, then, that the good attorney was more than usually bland and
happy that day. He saw the pork-butcher in his back-parlour, and had a
few words to say about the chapel-trust, and his looks and talk were
quite edifying. He met two little children in the street, and stopped and
smiled as he stooped down to pat them on the heads, and ask them whose
children they were, and gave one of them a halfpenny. And he sat
afterwards, for nearly ten minutes, with lean old Mrs. Mullock, in her
little shop, where toffey, toys, and penny books for young people were
sold, together with baskets, tea-cups, straw-mats, and other adult ware;
and he was so friendly and talked so beautifully, and although, as he
admitted in his lofty way, 'there might be differences in fortune and
position,' yet were we not all members of one body? And he talked upon
this theme till the good lady, marvelling how so great a man could be so
humble, was called to the receipt of custom, on the subject of 'paradise'
and 'lemon-drops,' and the heavenly-minded attorney, with a celestial
condescension, recognised his two little acquaintances of the street, and
actually adding another halfpenny to his bounty--escaped, with a hasty
farewell and a smile, to the street, as eager to evade the thanks of the
little people, and the admiration of Mrs. Mullock.
It is not to be supposed, that having got one momentous matter well off
his mind, the good attorney was to be long rid of anxieties. The human
mind is fertile in that sort of growth. As well might the gentleman who
shaves suppose, as his fingers glide, after the operation, over the
polished surface of his chin--_factus ad unguem_--that he may fling his
brush and strop into the fire, and bury his razor certain fathoms in the
earth. No! One crop of cares will always succeed another--not very
oppressive, nor in any wise grand, perhaps--worries, simply, no more; but
needing a modicum of lather, the looking glass, the strop, the diligent
razor, delicate manipulation, and stealing a portion of our precious time
every day we live; and this must go on so long as the state of man is
imperfect, and plenty of possible evil in futurity.
The attorney must run up to London for a day or two. What if that
mysterious, and almost illegible brute, James Dutton, should arrive while
he was away. Very unpleasant, possibly! For the attorney intended to keep
that gentleman very quiet. Sufficient time must be allowed to intervene
to disconnect the purchase of the vicar's remainder from the news of Mark
Wylder's demise. A year and a-half, maybe, or possibly a year might do.
For if the good attorney was cautious, he was also greedy, and would take
possession as early as was safe. Therefore arrangements were carefully
adjusted to detain that important person, in the event of his arriving;
and a note, in the good attorney's hand, inviting him to remain at the
Lodge till his return, and particularly requesting that 'he would kindly
abstain from mentioning to _anyone_, during his absence, any matter he
might intend to communicate to him in his professional capacity or
otherwise.'
This, of course, was a little critical, and made his to-morrow's journey
to London a rather anxious prospect.
In the meantime our friend, Captain Lake, arrived in a hired fly, with
his light baggage, at the door of stately Brandon. So soon as the dust
and ashes of railway travel were removed, the pale captain, in changed
attire, snowy cambric, and with perfumed hair and handkerchief, presented
himself before Dorcas.
'Now, Dorkie, darling, your poor soldier has come back, resolved to turn
over a new leaf, and never more to reserve another semblance of a secret