heartily, and hopefully,
for gold.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

DENHAM LONGS FOR FRESH AIR, AND FINDS IT.

There came a day, at last, in which foul air and confinement, and
money-making, began to tell on the constitution of Mr Denham; to
disagree with him, in fact. The rats began to miss him, occasionally,
from Redwharf Lane, at the wonted hour, and, no doubt, gossiped a good
deal on the subject over their evening meals, after the labours and
depredations of the day were ended!

They observed too (supposing them to have been capable of observation),
that when Mr Denham did come to his office, he came with a pale face
and an enfeebled step; also with a thick shawl wrapped round his neck.
These peculiarities were so far taken advantage of by the rats that they
ceased to fly with their wonted precipitancy when his step was heard,
and in course of time they did not even dive into their holes as in
former days, but sat close to them and waited until the merchant had
passed, knowing well that he was not capable of running at them. One
large young rat in particular--quite a rattling blade in his way--at
length became so bold that he stood his ground one forenoon, and
deliberately stared at Mr Denham as he tottered up to the office-door.

We notice this fact because it occurred on the memorable day when Mr
Denham admitted to himself that he was breaking down, and that something
must be done to set him up again. He thought, as he sat at his desk,
leaning his head on his right hand, that sea-air might do him good, and
the idea of a visit to his sister at Deal flitted across his mind; but,
remembering that he had for many years treated that sister with frigid
indifference, and that he had dismissed her son Guy harshly and without
sufficient reason from his employment a few years ago, he came to the
conclusion that Deal was not a suitable locality. Then he thought of
Margate and Ramsgate, and even ventured to contemplate the Scotch
Highlands, but his energy being exhausted by illness, he could not make
up his mind, so he sighed and felt supremely wretched.

Had there been any one at his elbow, to suggest a plan of some sort, and
urge him to carry it out, he would have felt relieved and grateful. But
plans for our good are usually suggested and urged by those who love us,
and Denham, being a bachelor and a misanthrope, happened to have no one
to love him. He was a very rich man--very rich indeed; and would have
given a grea