'And when does he return?' 'In a day or two, at furthest,' he said. 'I wonder what they'll think of it at Brandon?' said the attorney, with a cavernous grin of sly enquiry at his companion, which, recollecting his character, he softened into a sad sort of smile, and added, 'No harm, I dare say; and, after all, you know, why should there--any man may have business; and, indeed, it is very likely, after all, that he really went about the jewels. Men are too hasty to judge one another, my dear Sir; charity, let us remember, thinketh no evil.' 'By-the-bye,' said Lake, rather briskly for him, rummaging his pockets, 'I'm glad I remembered he gave me a little note to Chelford. Are any of your people going to Brandon this morning?' 'I'll send it,' said the lawyer, eyeing the little pencilled note wistfully, which Lake presented between two fingers. 'Yes, it is to Lord Chelford,' said the attorney, with a grand sort of suavity--he liked lords--placing it, after a scrutiny, in his waistcoat pocket. 'Don't you think it had best go at once?--there may be something requiring an answer, and your post leaves, doesn't it, at twelve?' 'Oh! an answer, is there?' said Mr. Larkin, drawing it from his pocket, and looking at it again with a perceptible curiosity. 'I really can't say, not having read it, but there _may_,' said Captain Lake, who was now and then a little impertinent, just to keep Mr. Larkin in his place, and perhaps to hint that he understood him. '_Read_ it! Oh, my _dear_ Sir, my _dear_ Captain Lake, how _could_ you--but, oh! no--you _could_ not suppose I meant such an idea--oh, dear--no, no. You and I have our notions about what's gentlemanlike and professional--a--and gentlemanlike, as I say--Heaven forbid.' 'Quite so!' said Captain Lake, gently. 'Though all the world does not think with us, _I_ can tell you, things come before us in _our_ profession. Oh, ho! ho!' and Mr. Larkin lifted up his pink eyes and long hands, and shook his long head, with a melancholy smile and a sigh like a shudder. When at the later breakfast, up at Brandon, that irregular pencilled scroll reached Lord Chelford's hand, he said, as he glanced on the direction-- 'This is Mark Wylder's; what does he say?' 'So Mark's gone to town,' he said; 'but he'll be back again on Saturday, and in the meantime desires me to lay his heart at your feet, Dorcas. Will you read the note?' 'No,' said Dorcas, quietly. Lady Chelford extended her long, shrivelled fingers, on which glimmered sundry jewels, and made a little nod to her son, who gave it to her, with a smile. Holding her glasses to her eyes, the note at a distance, and her head rather back, she said-- 'It is not a pretty billet,' and she read in a slow and grim way:-- 'DEAR CHELFORD,--I'm called up to London just for a day. No lark, but honest business. I'll return on Saturday; and tell Dorcas, with dozens of loves, I would write to her, but have not a minute for the train. 'Yours, &c. 'M. WYLDER.'