There was no record kept of the number of times the over-dressed gentleman gave utterance to that peculiarly-drawling exclamation; but it is certain that he startled his valet by jumping up suddenly at early morn from a dream of his encounter, to cry, as if disturbed by something almost painful: "Who could have thought it? Bai Jove!" Volume 1, Chapter III. BLANDFIELD COURT. "Did you ring, sir?" said a footman. "Yes, Thomas. Go to Mr Charles's room, and tell him that I should be glad of half an hour's conversation with him before he goes out, if he can make it convenient." The library-door of Blandfield Court closed; and after taking a turn or two up and down the room, Sir Philip Vining--a fine, florid, grey-headed old gentleman--stood for a moment gazing from the window at the sweep of park extending down to a glittering stream, which wound its way amidst glorious glades of beech and chestnut, bright in the virgin green of spring. But anxious of mien, and ill at ease, the old gentleman stepped slowly to the handsome carved-oak chair in which he had been seated, and then, intently watching the door, he leaned back, playing with his double gold eyeglass. Five minutes passed, and then a step was heard crossing the hall--a step which made Sir Philip's face lighten up, as, leaning forward, a pleasant smile appeared upon his lip. Then a heavy bold hand was laid upon the handle, and the patient of Dr Tiddson--fair, flushed, and open-countenanced--strode into the room, seeming as if he had brought with him the outer sunshine lingering in his bright brown hair and golden beard. He swung the door to with almost a bang; and then--free of gait, happy, and careless-looking, suffering from no broken rib, fractured clavicle, or concussed brain, as predicted three months before--he strode towards Sir Philip, who rose hurriedly with outstretched hands. "My dear Charley, how are you this morning? You look flushed. Effects remaining of that unlucky fall, I'm afraid." "Fall? Nonsense, dad! Never better in my life," laughed the young man, taking the outstretched hands and then subsiding into a chair. "Mere trifle, in spite of the doctor's long phiz." "It is going back to old matters, but I'm very glad, my dear boy, that I saw Max Bray, and learned of your condition; and I've never said a word before, Charley, but why should you send for him in preference to your father?" "Pooh!--nonsense, dad! First man I thought of. Did it to save you pain. Ought to have got up, and walked home. But there, let it pass. Mind my cigar?" "No, no, my dear boy, of course not," said the old gentleman, coughing slightly. "If it troubles me, I'll open the window." "But really, father," said the young man, laying his hand tenderly on Sir Philip's arm, "don't let me annoy you with my bad habit."