osed, which he found it impossible to guess. At length he said:

'Pecksniff, of course, you had known before?'

'Only by name. No, I had never seen him, for my grandfather kept not
only himself but me, aloof from all his relations. But our separation
took place in a town in the adjoining country. From that place I came to
Salisbury, and there I saw Pecksniff's advertisement, which I answered,
having always had some natural taste, I believe, in the matters to which
it referred, and thinking it might suit me. As soon as I found it to be
his, I was doubly bent on coming to him if possible, on account of his
being--'

'Such an excellent man,' interposed Tom, rubbing his hands: 'so he is.
You were quite right.'

'Why, not so much on that account, if the truth must be spoken,'
returned Martin, 'as because my grandfather has an inveterate dislike to
him, and after the old man's arbitrary treatment of me, I had a natural
desire to run as directly counter to all his opinions as I could. Well!
As I said before, here I am. My engagement with the young lady I have
been telling you about is likely to be a tolerably long one; for neither
her prospects nor mine are very bright; and of course I shall not think
of marrying until I am well able to do so. It would never do, you know,
for me to be plunging myself into poverty and shabbiness and love in one
room up three pair of stairs, and all that sort of thing.'

'To say nothing of her,' remarked Tom Pinch, in a low voice.

'Exactly so,' rejoined Martin, rising to warm his back, and leaning
against the chimney-piece. 'To say nothing of her. At the same time,
of course it's not very hard upon her to be obliged to yield to the
necessity of the case; first, because she loves me very much; and
secondly, because I have sacrificed a great deal on her account, and
might have done much better, you know.'

It was a very long time before Tom said 'Certainly;' so long, that he
might have taken a nap in the interval, but he did say it at last.

'Now, there is one odd coincidence connected with this love-story,' said
Martin, 'which brings it to an end. You remember what you told me last
night as we were coming here, about your pretty visitor in the church?'

'Surely I do,' said Tom, rising from his stool, and seating himself in
the chair from which the other had lately risen, that he might see his
face. 'Undoubtedly.'

'That was she.'

'I knew what you were going to say,' cried Tom, looki