overtook Trevelyan in the street, and asked his friend where he was
going eastward. Trevelyan was on his way to call upon his lawyer,
and said so. But he did not say why he was going to his lawyer.
He had sent to his wife by Nora that morning to know whether she
would make to him the promise he required. The only answer which
Nora could draw from her sister was a counter question, demanding
whether he would ask her pardon for the injury he had done her.
Nora had been most eager, most anxious, most conciliatory as a
messenger; but no good had come of these messages, and Trevelyan
had gone forth to tell all his trouble to his family lawyer. Old
Mr Bideawhile had been his father's ancient and esteemed friend,
and he could tell things to Mr Bideawhile which he could not bring
himself to tell to any other living man; and he could generally
condescend to accept Mr Bideawhile's advice, knowing that his father
before him had been guided by the same.

'But you are out of your way for Lincoln's Inn Fields,' said
Stanbury.

'I have to call at Twining's. And where are you going?'

'I have been three times round St. James's Park to collect my
thoughts,' said Stanbury, 'and now I'm on my way to the Daily R.,
250, Fleet Street. It is my custom of an afternoon. I am prepared
to instruct the British public of tomorrow on any subject, as per
order, from the downfall of a European compact to the price of a
London mutton chop.'

'I suppose there is nothing more to be said about it,' said Trevelyan,
after a pause.