But though some such idea as this did cross his mind, his thought on the instant was of his cousin.

“What dreadful news, Margaret?”

“It is about my money.”

“Stop a moment, Margaret. Are you sure that you ought to tell it to me?”

“If I don’t, to whom shall I tell it? And how can I bear it without telling it to some one?”

“Did Mr Slow bid you speak of it to me?”

“No; he bade me think much of it before I did so, as you are concerned. And he said that you might perhaps be disappointed.”

Then they walked on again in silence. John Ball found his position to be very difficult, and hardly knew how to speak to her, or how to carry himself. If it was to be that this money was to come back to him; if it was his now in spite of all that had come and gone; if the wrong done was to be righted, and the property wrested from him was to be restored,—restored to him who wanted it so sorely,—how could he not triumph in such an act of tardy restitution? He remembered all the particulars at this moment. Twelve thousand pounds of his uncle Jonathan’s money had gone to Walter Mackenzie. The sum once intended for him had been much more than that,—more he believed than double that; but if twelve thousand pounds was now restored to him, how different would it make the whole tenor of his life; Mr Slow said that he might be disappointed; but then Mr Slow was not his lawyer. Did he not owe it to his family immediately to go to his own attorney? Now he thought no more of his guinea at the Shadrach, but walked on by his cousin’s side with his mind intently fixed on his uncle’s money. She was still leaning on his arm.

“Tell me, John, what shall I do?” said she, looking up into his face.

Would it not be better for them, better for the interests of them both, that they should be separated? Was it probable, or possible, that with interests so adverse, they should give each other good advice? Did it not behove him to explain to her that till this should be settled between them, they must necessarily regard each other as enemies? For a moment or two he wished himself away from her, and was calculating how he might escape. But then, when he looked down at her, and saw the softness of her eye, and felt the confidence implied in the weight of her hand upon his arm, his hard heart was softened, and he relented.

“It is difficult to tell you what you should do,” he said. “At present nothing seems to be known. He has said nothing for certain.”

“But I could understand him,” she said, in reply; “I could see by his face, and I knew by the tone of his voice, that he was almost certain. I know that he is sure of it. John, I shall be a beggar, an absolute beggar! I shall have nothing; and those poor children will be beggars, and their mother. I feel as though I did not know where I am, or what I am doing.”