As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with the interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing told as well as she could her little story. Mr. Eglantine had arrested Mr. Walker: she had been trying to gain time for him; Eglantine had refused. “The hard-hearted cowardly brute to refuse HER anything!” said loyal Mr. Woolsey. “My dear,” says he, “I've no reason to love your husband, and I know too much about him to respect him; but I love and respect YOU, and will spend my last shilling to serve you.” At which Morgiana could only take his hand and cry a great deal more than ever. She said Mr. Walker would have a great deal of money in a week, that he was the best of husbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would think better of him when he knew him; that Mr. Eglantine's bill was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that Mr. Mossrose would take forty per cent. if Mr. Woolsey could say how much that was. “I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good,” said Mr. Woolsey, bouncing up; “stay here for ten minutes, my dear, until my return, and all shall be right, as you will see.” He was back in ten minutes, and had called a cab from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there had seen and commented on Mrs. Walker's woebegone looks), and they were off for Cursitor Street in a moment. “They'll settle the whole debt for twenty pounds,” said he, and showed an order to that effect from Mr. Mossrose to Mr. Bendigo, empowering the latter to release Walker on receiving Mr. Woolsey's acknowledgment for the above sum. “There's no use paying it,” said Mr. Walker, doggedly; “it would only be robbing you, Mr. Woolsey--seven more detainers have come in while my wife has been away. I must go through the court now; but,” he added in a whisper to the tailor, “my good sir, my debts of HONOUR are sacred, and if you will have the goodness to lend ME the twenty pounds, I pledge you my word as a gentleman to return it when I come out of quod.” It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this; for, as soon as he was gone, Walker, in a tremendous fury, began cursing his wife for dawdling three hours on the road. “Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a cab?” roared he, when he heard she had walked to Bond Street. “Those writs have only been in half an hour, and I might have been off but for you.” “Oh, Howard,” said she, “didn't you take--didn't I give you my--my last shilling?” and fell back and wept again more bitterly than ever. “Well, love,” said her amiable husband, turning rather red, “never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is but going through the court. It is no great odds. I forgive you.” CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICULTIES, BUT SHOWS GREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS MISFORTUNES.