encumbrances.' Gracious heaven, what a dreadful word to describe the
poor pretty harmless children! I was afraid, sir, you might have some
English objection to _my_ 'encumbrances.' A young man, a boy, and a
cherubim-baby; not to speak of the sacred memories of two women, and the
charming occasional society of a third; all inextricably enveloped in
the life of one amorous-meritorious French person--surely there was
reason for hesitation here? No matter; I bless my stars I know better
now, and I withdraw myself from further notice. Permit me to recall your
attention to the Roquefort cheese, and a mouthful of potato-salad to
correct the richness of him."

The dinner was over at last. Amelius was alone again.

It was a still evening. Not a breath of wind stirred among the trees in
the garden; no vehicles passed along the by-road in which the cottage
stood. Now and then, Toff was audible downstairs, singing French songs
in a high cracked voice, while he washed the plates and dishes, and
set everything in order for the night. Amelius looked at his
bookshelves--and felt that, after _Rob Roy,_ there was no more reading
for him that evening. The slow minutes followed one another wearily;
the deadly depression of the earlier hours of the day was stealthily
fastening its hold on him again. How might he best resist it? His
healthy out-of-door habits at Tadmor suggested the only remedy that he
could think of. Be his troubles what they might, his one simple method
of resisting them, at all other times, was his simple method now. He
went out for a walk.

For two hours he rambled about the great north-western suburb of London.
Perhaps he felt the heavy oppressive weather, or perhaps his good dinner
had not agreed with him. Any way, he was so thoroughly worn out, that he
was obliged to return to the cottage in a cab.

Toff opened the door--but not with his customary alacrity. Amelius was
too completely fatigued to notice any trifling circumstance. Otherwise,
he would certainly have perceived something odd in the old Frenchman's
withered face. He looked at his master, as he relieved him of his
hat and coat, with the strangest expression of interest and anxiety;
modified by a certain sardonic sense of amusement underlying the more
serious emotions. "A nasty dull evening," Amelius said wearily.
And Toff, always eager to talk at other times, only answered, "Yes,
sir"--and retreated at once to the kitchen regions.

The fire was bright