"Why, this old Parkinson is much more amusing than a state-jester of old, and not half so impudent or expensive." Mr. Grey smiled, and rubbed his smooth cheek with his white hand. After a moment's enjoyment of his recollections of Parkinson, he returned to the question. "Well, Bee, will you go down in the _Rodwell_ with me to-morrow evening? We can have a breath of sea-air, a look at Parkinson and the cottage, and come back by the boat in the morning." "Very well, Wat. Of course I'll go with you." "Now let me see. The best plan will be for you to go from this to the boat. Be on board at a quarter-past six, and stay there until I come. You won't forget?" "No, Wat." "You're quite sure you won't forget?" Of late Mrs. Grey's memory had shown signs of giving way. "I'll be there, certainly," she answered, a little hotly. "You don't think my memory is so bad I am likely to forget anything that gives me a chance of getting out of this dull house." "Because," he said, holding up his finger to quiet her displeasure, "I may not be able to get away from the office until just half-past six. I shall be at the boat in time. You will go aboard and sit down aft, and wait for me." Having thus arranged for the following evening, Grey lapsed into silence, and his wife withdrew. Those after-dinner hours, which, to the prosperous man are the most placid and full of content, were now to Grey full of fears and subtle agonies when he had no company. The necessity all through the day for showing a fair front to the world and keeping up his reputation for cordial joviality no longer existed when he found himself alone in his own dining-room. Then he exposed his imagination to all the dangers and difficulties in his path. Here, this 16th of August, was he safe over all the wreck of that awful month of May, but at what a cost? The commission of a disgraceful crime and the perpetual dread of a damning discovery. The financial crisis had shattered trade, dispersed confidence, and ruined enterprise. The last penny of the baronet's money had been taken, and was gone; and yet no remarkable prosperity, nothing in the meanest way approaching what he had calculated upon, had set in towards him. Even in the recent days of over-trading, when money was dear, the deposits in the Daneford Bank had been more than during the past few months. Things were not likely to mend in time for him. At the present rate twenty years could not bring in half the sum he wanted, and he might be called to disgorge within eighteen months, within a much less time should the old baronet suddenly die and matters take a turn unfavourable to his interest with regard to the guardianship of the heiress--his care over her not reaching, he supposed, beyond her twenty-first birthday. Merciful Heavens! what could deliver him? And then followed the invariable reply: There is nothing to save you from infamy but marriage with Maud Midharst.