Once he stopped beneath a lamp; and taking his money from his pocket, counted it slowly. And heaven knows that the amount of his pecuniary property did not require long to reckon; for two shillings in silver and a few halfpence constituted all the store. “This will at least purchase me a meal and procure me a bed for to-night,” he murmured to himself; “and then--to-morrow--I must present myself to those who have not heard of me for so long a time.” With these words, the old man resumed his slow and painful walk--for he was wearied and exhausted by the length of his day’s journey. It was evident that he had been absent many--many years from the capital; for, though he had once known this neighbourhood well, yet now it was so changed that he gazed around him with astonishment,--aye, and paused to gaze around, too,--streets, rows of houses, and gardens having taken the place of the open fields. He had now reached a spot where the dwellings were more thinly scattered, and where the path was as yet unpaved and the road was thickly strown with flints. It was now close upon nine o’clock; but the July evening was so beautiful that it was far from dark--only dimly obscure;--and thus, though there was no lamp in the neighbourhood where the old man was pursuing his way, yet was it sufficiently light for him to obtain a good view of objects, and even of the countenances of the few people whom he met. Not that he paid any particular attention to the latter:--still, a stranger just arriving in London, or a person who returns to the capital after a very long absence, observes and marks every thing and every body with an earnest scrutiny at first. The old man was passing by two small houses, forming one isolated building, and standing back from the road, when he encountered an individual whose face immediately struck him as being one which he had formerly known full well; and in the next instant a light flashed in upon his mind. “Yes--’tis he!” he ejaculated to himself; and, laying his hand upon the other’s shoulder, he said, “Mr. Howard, we meet at last--after a separation of upwards of nineteen years!” “My name is not Howard--and I know nothing of you, sir. Let me go!” was the impatient reply, delivered by the individual whom the old man had accosted, and who was himself well stricken in years--being now midway between sixty and seventy. “Were I on my death bed, I could swear that your name was _once_ Howard, and that you were an attorney in London--an attorney who absconded, ruining thousands,” exclaimed the old man. “What means this insolence?” asked the other, affecting a tone of deep indignation mingled with surprise. “Pass on your way, sir--and let me pursue mine!”