an unsuccessful provincial barrister, and of her six children, whom it
would be pleasant to help, like the opulent uncle of fiction, at their
entering upon the world. In Mr. Charman he put blind faith, with the result
that one morning he found himself shivering on the edge of ruin; the touch
of confirmatory news, and over he went.

No one was aware of it but Mr. Charman himself and he, a few days later,
lay sick unto death. Mr. Charman's own estate suffered inappreciably from
what to his friend meant sheer disaster. And Mr. Tymperley breathed not a
word to the widow; spoke not a word to any one at all, except the lawyer,
who quietly wound up his affairs, and the sister whose children must needs
go without avuncular aid. During the absence of his friendly neighbours
after Mr. Charman's death, he quietly disappeared.

The poor gentleman was then close upon forty years old. There remained to
him a capital which he durst not expend; invested, it bore him an income
upon which a labourer could scarce have subsisted. The only possible place
of residence--because the only sure place of hiding--was London, and to
London Mr. Tymperley betook himself. Not at once did he learn the art of
combating starvation with minim resources. During his initiatory trials he
was once brought so low, by hunger and humiliation, that he swallowed
something of his pride, and wrote to a certain acquaintance, asking counsel
and indirect help. But only a man in Mr. Tymperley's position learns how
vain is well-meaning advice, and how impotent is social influence. Had he
begged for money, he would have received, no doubt, a cheque, with words of
compassion; but Mr. Tymperley could never bring himself to that.

He tried to make profit of his former amusement, fretwork, and to a certain
extent succeeded, earning in six months half a sovereign. But the prospect
of adding one pound a year to his starveling dividends did not greatly