responded Sibylla. "You told me yesterday not to think about Fred, when
I said I wished he had come back instead of John--if one must have come
back."

"At any rate, don't think about unpleasant things now," was Jan's
answer. "Eat your dinner."

CHAPTER LXXII.

JAN'S SAVINGS.

Lionel Verner looked his situation full in the face. It was not a
desirable one. When he had been turned out of Verner's Pride before, it
is probable he had thought _that_ about the extremity of all human
calamity; but that, looking back upon it, appeared a position to be
coveted, as compared with this. In point of fact it was. He was free
then from pecuniary liabilities; he did not owe a shilling in the world;
he had five hundred pounds in his pocket; nobody but himself to look to;
and--he was a younger man. In the matter of years he was not so very
much older now; but Lionel Verner, since his marriage, had bought some
experience in human disappointment, and nothing ages a man's inward
feelings like it.

He was now, with his wife, a burden upon his mother; a burden she could
ill afford. Lady Verner was somewhat embarrassed in her own means, and
she was preparing to reduce her establishment to the size that it used
to be in her grumbling days. If Lionel had but been free! free from debt
and difficulty! he would have gone out into the world and put his
shoulder to the wheel.

Claims had poured in upon him without end. Besides the obligations he
already knew of, not a day passed but the post brought him from London
outstanding accounts, for debts contracted by his wife, with demands for
their speedy settlement. Mr. Verner of Verner's Pride might not have
been troubled with these accounts for years, had his wife so managed:
but Mr. Verner, turned from Verner's Pride, a--it is an ugly word, but
expressive of the truth--a pauper, found the demands come pouring thick
and threefold upon his head. It was of no _use_ to reproach Sibylla; of
no use even to speak, save to ask "Is such-and-such a bill a just
claim?" Any approach to such topics was the signal for an unseemly burst
of passion on her part; or for a fit of hysterics, in which fashionable
affectation Sibylla had lately become an adept. She _tried_ Lionel
terribly--worse than tongue can tell or pen can write. There was no
social confidential intercourse. Lionel could not go to her for
sympathy, for counsel, or for comfort. If he attempted to talk over any
plans for the future, for