"Ah! then I may probably find this Mrs. Kershaw's whereabouts at the post-office?" "No, no, sir," said the man; "they won't give you no addresses at the office, and the letters is sent on to the district where the party has moved; so it's a chance if any of us knows." "At any rate, I shall be here to-morrow to meet the twelve o'clock man; meantime I am obliged to you." So saying, Wilton deposited a judicious tip in the carrier's willing hand, and made for the main road, hoping that a favorable report of him would be given to the other carrier, and predispose him to be communicative. It was long before Wilton forgot the oppressive monotony of that evening. He could not bring himself to seek out Moncrief. He would have him at breakfast, and that was bad enough. He strolled into the Adelphi, and felt savage at the pathos of the play, and the fun of the afterpiece. He left before it was finished, and returned to the coffee-room. He tried to sketch out an advertisement addressed to Mrs. Kershaw, but intended for Ella. He vexed himself with all kinds of conjectures, and finally retired, hoping for oblivion in sleep, which did not come for some weary hours; and his last waking thought was that to-morrow would be the 19th of March, the day of the tryst, which he had so often pictured to himself. And here he was in total ignorance of Ella's dwelling--not a step nearer to the desired interview. The following day was not much brighter than the one just described, and Wilton rose with an unspeakable loathing for breakfast and Moncrief--especially Moncrief. However, both had to be endured. The major was considerably puzzled by his entertainer's preoccupation and testiness. Every subject seemed distasteful, every person more or less offensive. "What's come to you, lad?" asked the old soldier. "Are you in debt again? I thought you had left that class of troubles behind you; and you seem to have been quiet and steady enough of late." "No, I am not in debt." "Well, I do not think you are in love; and love, or money, is at the bottom of most troubles--eh?" An inaudible muttering was the only reply. "A--idiot?" repeated the major, thinking he caught the sound. "No, by no means. I never said so, though there have been times when I was afraid you would act like one. Have you seen the viscount?" "No." "I suppose you are going to call on him?" "No, I am not." "Then you are rather an idiot. Why will you throw away fortune?" "I am not throwing it away. He is out of town." "Why don't you go and pay him a visit?" "I cannot; he has not asked me." "Not asked you--bosh!--" "Moncrief," interrupted Wilton, "will you take some more kidney, or ham, or coffee, or anything?" "No, thank you; I have breakfasted well." "Then go, will you? like a good fellow. You are partly right. I am in a pickle. You shall know all about it one of these days, but I cannot tell you just now. I have an appointment at--that is, I must be at Kensington at twelve."