on his features,
as if he was always employed in making the two ends meet!

So he sat before his house-book, with his steel-pen in his hand, and
making crosses here and notes of interrogation there.

"Mrs. M'Catchley's maid," said the colonel to himself, "must be put upon
rations. The tea that she drinks! Good heavens!--tea again!"

There was a modest ring at the outer door. "Too early for a visitor!"
thought the colonel. "Perhaps it is the water-rates."

The neat man-servant--never seen beyond the offices, save in grande
tenue, plushed and powdered-entered and bowed. "A gentleman, sir, wishes
to see you."

"A gentleman," repeated the colonel, glancing towards the clock. "Are
you sure it is a gentleman?"

The man hesitated. "Why, sir, I ben't exactly sure; but he speaks like a
gentleman. He do say he comes from London to see you, sir."

A long and interesting correspondence was then being held between the
colonel and one of his wife's trustees touching the investment of
Mrs. Pompley's fortune. It might be the trustee,--nay, it must be. The
trustee had talked of running down to see him.

"Let him come in," said the colonel, "and when I ring--sandwiches and
sherry."

"Beef, sir?"

"Ham."

The colonel put aside his house-book, and wiped his pen. In another
minute the door opened and the servant announced--

"MR. DIGBY."

The colonel's face fell, and he staggered back.

The door closed, and Mr. Digby stood in the middle of the room, leaning
on the great writing-table for support. The poor soldier looked sicklier
and shabbier, and nearer the end of all things in life and fortune,
than when Lord L'Estrange had thrust the pocket-book into his hands.
But still the servant showed knowledge of the world in calling him
gentleman; there was no other word to apply to him.

"Sir," began Colonel Pompley, recovering himself, and with great
solemnity, "I did not expect this pleasure."

The poor visitor stared round him dizzily, and sank into a chair,
breathing hard. The colonel looked as a man only looks upon a poor
relation, and buttoned up first one trouser pocket and then the other.

"I thought you were in Canada," said the colonel, at last. Mr. Digby
had now got breath to speak, and he said meekly, "The climate would have
killed my child, and it is two years since I returned."

"You ought to have found a very good place in England to make it worth
your while to leave Canada."

"She could not ha