It had been his own wish to come to England at last, and learn to be independent of his uncle. He had decided talent both in art and music, which had been strengthened and cultivated by his foreign masters, and would doubtless, after some further study, enable him to make his way in the world. He had a keen love of outdoor life, too, and had been always used to much physical exercise. He was dismayed and disgusted with the smoke and dirt of London, and longed to leave it as early as possible. His uncle was to consider what was to be done, and let him know, that he might make some arrangements before he set out for his promised visit to his relatives. The letter containing his fate had now come, and doomed him to a City clerkship. Phil was thus driven to desperation. There was a third letter still lying unopened, and at last that too claimed attention. It was written in a clear, bold hand, and dated from an hotel in Kensington. ‘DEAR PHIL, ‘I suppose by this time we have each learned our respective fate. My summons to England has been to hear profitable tidings. I trust you may have heard as good. Come to me here as early as you can, to talk things over. ‘Yours truly, ‘TORRINGTON TORWOOD.’ Torrington Torwood, otherwise Tor, was the one friend Phil had made during his boyhood’s years. Both English lads at foreign schools, they had drawn very closely one to the other, and had contrived to be almost constantly together for several years past. Tor was singularly alone in the world, his only relation being a grandfather, who kept him liberally supplied with pocket-money, but never expressed the least wish to see him. Phil, too, was very much alone, despite his family connections, and the two lads had formed a very sincere friendship. Phil, who clung to Tor, as the weaker nature must always cling to the stronger, and desired nothing better than to pour out his woes and his wrath into sympathetic ears, hurried away and quickly found himself in a comfortable private room, where Tor was sitting amid papers and parchments. Phil lost no time in recounting his misfortunes, and Tor listened, and read the letters, and heard all that had occurred. He was only eighteen himself, but looked many years older, and his character was more decided and more fully developed than his age would indicate. He was a handsome youth, with a daring look in his eye, and a mouth that expressed a vast deal of determination.