The Colonel returned with tidings that Mr. Wakefield had no doubt of the validity of the will, though it might be possible to contest it if Elizabeth Brook, the witness, could not be found; but that would involve an investigation as to the manner of the loss, and the discovery.  It was, in truth, only a matter of time; and on Monday Mr. Wakefield would come down and begin to take steps.  That was the day on which the family were to have gone to London, but Caroline’s heart failed her, and she was much relieved when a kind letter arrived from Mrs. Evelyn, who was sure she could not wish to go into society immediately after Janet’s affair, and offered to receive Elvira for as long as might be convenient, and herself—-as indeed had been already arranged-—to present her at court with Sydney.  It was a great comfort to place her in such hands during the present crisis, all the more that Ellen was not at all delighted with her company for Essie and Ellie.  She rushed home on Saturday evening to secure Delrio, and superintend her packing up, with her head a great deal too full of court dresses and ball dresses, fancy costumes, and Parisian hats, to detect any of the tokens of a coming revolution, even in her own favour.

Jock too came home that same evening, as gay and merry apparently as ever, and after dinner, claimed his mother for a turn in the garden.

“Has Drake written to you, mother?” he asked.  “I met him the other day at Mrs. Lucas’s, and it seems his soul is expanding.  He wants to give up the old house—-you know the lease is nearly out—-and to hang out in a more fashionable quarter.”

“Dear old house!”

“Now, mother, here’s my notion.  Why should not we hide our diminished heads there?  You could keep house while the Monk and I go through the lectures and hospitals, and King’s College might not be too far off for Armine.”

“You, Jock, my dear.”

“You see, it is a raving impossibility for me to stay where I am.”

“I am afraid so; but you might exchange into the line.”

“There would be no great good in that.  I should have stuck to the Guards because there I am, and I have no opinion of fellows changing about for nothing-—and because of Evelyn and some capital fellows besides.  But I found out long ago that it had been a stupid thing to go in for.  When one has mastered the routine, it is awfully monotonous; and one has nothing to do with one’s time or one’s brains.  I have felt many a time that I could keep straight better if I had something tougher to do.”

“Tell me, just to satisfy my mind, my dear, you have no debts.”

“I don’t owe forty pounds in the world, mother; and I shall not owe that, when I can get my tailor to send in his bill.  You have given me as jolly an allowance as any man in the corps, and I’ve always paid my way.  I’ve got no end of things about my rooms, and my horses and cab, but they will turn into money.  You see, having done the thing first figure, I should hate to begin in the cheap and nasty style, and I had much rather come home to you, Mother Carey.  I’m not too old, you know-—not one-and-twenty till August.  I shall not come primed like the Monk, but I’ll try to grind up to him, if you’ll let me, mother.”