’Go on for five years, and I double it.

’Give it up, and I give you up.

’No question about me.  The first tailor can be paid his L40 in advance, by applying at the offices of Messrs. Grist, Gray’s Inn Square, Gray’s Inn.  Let him say he is tailor No. 1, and show this letter, signed Agreed, with your name in full at bottom.  This will do—­money will be paid—­no questions one side or other.  So on—­the whole nine.  The end of the year they can give a dinner to their acquaintance.  Send in bill to Messrs. Grist.

’The advice to you to take the cash according to terms mentioned is advice of ’A friend.

’P.S.  You shall have your wine.  Consult among yourselves, and carry it by majority what wine it’s to be.  Five carries it.  Dozen and half per tailor, per annum—­that’s the limit.’

It was certainly a very hot day.  The pores of his skin were prickling, and his face was fiery; and yet he increased his pace, and broke into a wild gallop for a mile or so; then suddenly turned his horse’s head back for Beckley.  The secret of which evolution was, that he had caught the idea of a plotted insult of Laxley’s in the letter, for when the blood is up we are drawn the way the tide sets strongest, and Evan was prepared to swear that Laxley had written the letter, because he was burning to chastise the man who had injured him with Rose.

Sure that he was about to confirm his suspicion, he read it again, gazed upon Beckley Court in the sultry light, and turned for Fallow field once more, devising to consult Mr. John Raikes on the subject.

The letter had a smack of crabbed age hardly counterfeit.  The savour of an old eccentric’s sour generosity was there.  Evan fell into bitter laughter at the idea of Rose glancing over his shoulder and asking him what nine of him to a man meant.  He heard her clear voice pursuing him.  He could not get away from the mocking sound of Rose beseeching him to instruct her on that point.  How if the letter were genuine?  He began to abhor the sight and touch of the paper, for it struck division cold as death between him and his darling.  He saw now the immeasurable hopes his residence at Beckley had lured him to.  Rose had slightly awakened him:  this letter was blank day to his soul.  He saw the squalid shop, the good, stern, barren-spirited mother, the changeless drudgery, the existence which seemed indeed no better than what the ninth of a man was fit for.  The influence of his mother came on him once more.  Dared he reject the gift if true?  No spark of gratitude could he feel, but chained, dragged at the heels of his fate, he submitted to think it true; resolving the next moment that it was a fabrication and a trap:  but he flung away the roses.

As idle as a painted cavalier upon a painted drop-scene, the figure of Mr. John Raikes was to be observed leaning with crossed legs against a shady pillar of the Green Dragon; eyeing alternately, with an indifference he did not care to conceal, the assiduous pecking in the dust of some cocks and hens that had strayed from the yard of the inn, and the sleepy blinking in the sun of an old dog at his feet:  nor did Evan’s appearance discompose the sad sedateness of his demeanour.