profession and thereby losing all chance of ever attaining to the
dignity of Lord Chancellor, he certainly kept them to himself, for he
had no wish to run counter to the inclination of Kate, or he might find
himself in the position of the dog in the fable, who had thrown away the
substance to endeavour to grasp the shadow. Tom, in reality, had never
liked a London life, and had a constant hankering after field sports,
shooting and fishing; and now he believed he could indulge in these to
the top of his bent. They could live very comfortably on their joint
income, for he had received a certain sum on the death of his parents,
and likewise made something during the past few years by his profession,
which he had increased by placing it out at interest. Moreover, he knew
exactly where to find a house and grounds that would suit them; the very
one that Kate had so admired during their strolls around Vellenaux. It
was picturesquely situated in a shady dell, through which ran a flowing
brook which deepened and widened as it flowed on towards the sea, and
was the favourite resort of the angler and amateur fisherman--about an
equal distance from the Willows and the Rectory, and but a short walk
from the woods and park of Vellenaux. There were Horace's grounds to
shoot over, and although Sir Ralph Coleman was not a neighbour best
suited to his taste, yet he felt certain that he would not object to his
occasionally using his preserves, or bagging a few brace of birds on his
turnip fields. All this, together with a pretty little loving wife for a
companion, was, to Tom's notion, something worth living for, and a
position he would not exchange for all the gaieties of London life with
a seat on the woolsack into the bargain.

Again No. 54 Harley Street was thrown into a state of bustle and
confusion. Millinery girls, with innumerable band boxes, and oddly
shaped parcels were continually arriving. In the drawing room there was
assembled daily a sort of joint high commission, consisting of a bevy of