‘What a change! what a testimony!’ triumphantly thought James.  It might be partial, but he was not the man to believe so.

That day was one of defeat; but on the following, a note from James advised Fitzjocelyn to come and try his fortune again; Mr. Dynevor would give no one any rest till he had seen him.

Thereupon Louis was closeted with the old merchant, who watched him keenly, and noted every question or remark he made on the accounts; then twinkled his eyes with satisfaction as he hit more than one of the very blots over which Oliver had already perplexed himself.  So clear-headed and accurate did he show himself, that he soon perceived that Mr. Dynevor looked at him as a good clerk thrown away; and he finally obtained from him full powers to act, to bring the villain to condign punishment, and even, if possible, to dispose of his share in the firm.

Miss Ponsonby was much relieved to learn that Lord Fitzjocelyn was going out, though fearing that he might meet with disappointment; but, at least, her brother would be undeceived as to the traitor in whom he was confiding.  No letters were to announce Louis’s intentions, lest the enemy should take warning; but he carried several with him, to be given or not, according to the state of affairs; and when, on his way through London, he went to receive Miss Ponsonby’s commissions, she gave him a large packet, addressed to Mary.

‘Am I to give her this at all events!’ he asked, faltering.

‘It would serve her right.’

’Then I should not give it to her.  Pray write another, for she does not deserve to be wounded, however she may have decided.’

‘I do not know how I shall ever forgive her,’ sighed Aunt Melicent.

’People are never so unforgiving as when they have nothing to forgive.’

’Ah!  Lord Fitzjocelyn, that is not your case.  This might have been far otherwise, had I not misjudged you at first.’

’Do not believe so.  It would have been hard to think me more foolish than I was.  This probation has been the best schooling for me; and, let it end as it may, I shall be thankful for what has been.’

And in this spirit did he sail, and many an anxious thought followed him, no heart beating higher than did that of little Charlotte, who founded a great many hopes on the crisis that his coming would produce.  Seven years was a terrible time to have been engaged, and the little workhouse girl thought her getting almost as old as Mrs. Beckett.  She wondered whether Tom thought so too!  She did not want to think about Martha’s first cousin, who was engaged for thirty-two years to a journeyman tailor, and when they married at last, they were both so cross that she went out to service again at the end of a month.  Charlotte set up all her caps with Tom’s favourite colour, and ‘turned Angelina’ twenty times a-day.

Then came the well-known Peruvian letters, and a thin one for Charlotte.  Without recollecting that it must have crossed Lord Fitzjocelyn on the road, she tore it open the instant she had carried in the parlour letters.  Alas! poor Charlotte!