He mused.  ’However, I slept on it, and arrived at the conclusion this morning that my old Richie stood in imminent jeopardy of losing the fruit of all my toil.  The good woman will advance the money to her husband.  When I pledged my word to the squire I had reason to imagine the two months a sufficient time.  We have still a couple of days.  I have heard of men who lost heart at the eleventh hour, and if they had only hung on, with gallant faith in themselves, they would have been justified by the result.  Faith works miracles.  At least it allows time for them.’

His fertile ingenuity spared mine the task of persuading him to postpone the drive to Lady Sampleman.  But that he would have been prompt to go, at a word from me, and was actually about to go when I entered his house, I could not question.

He drove in manifest relief of mind to Dettermain and Newson’s.

I had an appointment with Mr. Temple at a great political Club, to meet the gentlemen who were good enough to undertake the introduction of the infant member to the House of Commons.  My incessantly twisting circumstances foiled the pleasure and pride due to me.  From the Club I bent my steps to Temple’s district, and met in the street young Eckart vom Hof, my champion and second on a memorable occasion, fresh upon London, and looking very Germanic in this drab forest of our city people.  He could hardly speak of Deutschland for enthusiasm at the sight of the moving masses.  His object in coming to England, he assured me honestly, was to study certain editions of Tibullus in the British Museum.  When he deigned to speak of Sarkeld, it was to say that Prince Hermann was frequently there.  I gave him no chance to be sly, though he pushed for it, at a question of the Princess Ottilia’s health.

The funeral pace of the block of cabs and omnibuses engrossed his attention.  Suddenly the Englishman afforded him an example of the reserve of impetuosity we may contain.  I had seen my aunt Dorothy in a middle line of cabs coming from the City, and was darting in a twinkling among wheels and shafts and nodding cab-horse noses to take her hand and know the meaning of her presence in London.  She had family business to do:  she said no more.  I mentioned that I had checked my father for a day or two.  She appeared grateful.  Her anxiety was extreme that she might not miss the return train, so I relinquished her hand, commanded the cabman to hasten, and turned to rescue Eckart—­too young and faithful a collegian not to follow his friend, though it were into the lion’s den-from a terrific entanglement of horseflesh and vehicles brawled over by a splendid collision of tongues.  Secure on the pavement again, Eckart humbly acknowledged that the English tongue could come out upon occasions.  I did my best to amuse him.