'It seems shocking to take the news in this way,' murmured Mr. Rymer; 'but
the relief; oh, the relief! And then, I scarcely knew him; we haven't seen
each other for years. I can't help it! I feel as if I had thrown off a load
of tons! Where is Adelaide? Which way have they gone?'

He rushed out again, to meet his wife. For several minutes Miss Shepperson
stood motionless, in a happy daze, until she suddenly remembered that chops
were at the kitchen fire, and sped downstairs.

Throughout that day, and, indeed, for several days to come, Mrs. Rymer
behaved very properly indeed; her pleasant, refined face wore a becoming
gravity, and when she spoke of the deceased she called him _poor_ Mr.
So-and-so. She did not attend the funeral, for baby happened to be ailing,
but Mr. Rymer, of course, went. He, in spite of conscientious effort to
imitate his wife's decorum, frequently betrayed the joy which was in his
mind; Miss Shepperson heard him singing as he got up in the morning, and
noticed that he ate with unusual appetite. The house brightened. Before the
end of a week smiles and cheerful remarks ruled in the family; sorrows were
forgotten, and everybody looked forward to the great day of settlement.

It did not come quickly. In two months' time Mr. Rymer still waited upon
the pleasure of the executors. But he was not inactive. His brother at
Birmingham had suggested 'an opening' in that city (thus did Mrs. Rymer
phrase it), and the commission-agent had decided to leave London as soon as
his affairs were in order. Towards the end of the third month the family
was suffering from hope deferred. Mr. Rymer had once more a troubled face,
and his wife no longer talked to Miss Shepperson in happy strain of her
projects for the future. At length notice arrived that the executors were
prepared to settle with Mr. Rymer; yet, in announcing the fact, he
manifested only a sober contentment, while Mrs. Rymer was heard to sigh.