‘I haven’t lived, I’ve starved. That’s what I’ve done. You never knew what it was to be hungry, I suppose. How would you like to be hungry, not for days, but weeks and weeks--and cold too at the same time, and nowhere to sleep. I couldn’t stand it, so I came back and took my chance. I say, Laura, can you lend me any money?’ Laura took out her purse. There were two sovereigns in it, besides some silver. She poured it all into the man’s open palm. ‘I am not rich now,’ she said, with a sad smile; ‘I lost nearly all my money.’ And she then remembered that it would be two months at least before her purse could be filled again. ‘Have you?’ said Semple. ‘Are you sure you can spare all this?’ He picked out one of the sovereigns and held it, as if he intended to return it. ‘Oh yes, I can spare it; and you want it so much.’ ‘Don’t I! But you’re a good sort, Laura, returned Semple; slipping the sovereign into his pocket with the rest of the money. ‘I’m afraid I must go now,’ said the girl, remembering that it was just possible that they might be observed. ‘All right. I’ll go back to London. It’s easier to pick up coppers there than anywhere else.’ ‘Why don’t you consult a lawyer?’ asked Laura suddenly. ‘What! Don’t you see, I could be caught and put in prison, for the conspiracy, if it were nothing else?’ ‘Yes; but surely the lawyer might act for you, and get your money for you, even if you lived abroad.’ ‘I thought of that. But what lawyer would look at me, dressed as I am now? Your two sovereigns will change all that, Laura. I will find a solicitor to take up the case. There ought to be ten thousand pounds for my share of the residue.’ ‘Far more than that. The Free Church----’ ‘Yes. What about the Free Church? They get the half-million, don’t they?’ ‘I believe not. Alec gave up his share to them; and they tried to get your share from the executors; but the court decided that they could not prove their case, and had no right to it.’ ‘Are you sure?’ cried Semple, almost mad with excitement. ‘I am quite sure. I saw it in the papers about a fortnight ago.’ ‘You don’t say so! What luck!’ And with sundry half-articulate cries of wonder and delight, Mr. James Semple disappeared. Six weeks afterwards he came back to Brighton. It was on a Sunday morning that Laura and he met. She had a headache which had prevented her going to church; and she was enjoying the unwonted repose of the little sitting-room when the door was opened, and Semple walked into the room. He was no longer an outcast dressed in rags. Every article of dress he had on was palpably new; and except for an irrepressible twitch of the eyelids, he had an air of confidence and display.