Ah! it is all very well for a man to resolve to tear an idol from his heart; it is quite another thing to do it. George Aspel had long ago given up all hope of winning May Maylands. He not only felt that one who had fallen so low as he, and shown such a character for instability, had no right to expect any girl to trust her happiness to him; but he also felt convinced that May had no real love for him, and that it would be unmanly to push his suit, even although he was now delivered from the power of his great enemy. He determined, therefore, to banish her as much as possible from his mind, and, in furtherance of his purpose, had conscientiously kept out of her way and out of the way of all his former friends. Heaving a little sigh as he dismissed her, for the ten-thousandth time, from his mind, he was turning his back on the Post-Office--that precious casket which contained so rich but unattainable a jewel--when he remembered that he had a letter in his pocket to post. Turning back, he sprang up the steps. The great mouth was not yet wide open. The evening feeding-hour had not arrived, and the lips were only in their normal condition--slightly parted. Having contributed his morsel to the insatiable giant, Aspel turned away, and found himself face to face with Phil Maylands. It was not by any means their first meeting since the recovery of Aspel, but, as we have said, the latter had kept out of the way of old friends, and Phil was only partially excepted from the rule. "The very man I wanted to see!" cried Phil, with gleaming eyes, as he seized his friend's hand. "I've got mother over to London at last. She's longing to see you. Come out with me this evening--do. But I'm in sudden perplexity: I've just been sent for to do some extra duty. It won't take me half an hour.--You're not engaged, are you?" "Well, no--not particularly." "Then you'll do me a favour, I'm sure you will. You'll mount guard here for half an hour, won't you? I had appointed to meet May here this evening to take her home, and when she comes she'll not know why I have failed her unless you--" "My dear Phil, I would stay with all my heart," said Aspel hastily, "but--but--the fact is--I've not seen May for a long time, and--" "Why, what on earth has _that_ to do with it?" asked Phil, in some surprise. "You are right," returned Aspel, with a deprecating smile, "that has nothing to do with it. My wits are wool-gathering, Phil. Go: I will mount guard." Phil was gone in a moment, and Aspel leaned his head on his arm against one of the pillars of the portico. He had scarcely breathed a prayer for guidance when May approached. She stopped abruptly, flushed slightly, and hesitated a moment, then, advancing with the hearty air of an old playmate, she frankly held out her hand.