robert streightley's preoccupation and loss of spirits were not without due cause. in the half hour that had lapsed between his parting with his wife and sister, and his rejoining them when in colloquy with the scotch gardener, he had gone through a phase of mental torture such as he had never before experienced. the irish gentleman of good birth and vanished fortunes, who comes to london with just sufficient money to pay his entrance-fees to a fashionable club, to keep a garret in st. alban's place, and to hire a hack for the season from a livery-stable, and goes in to win the heart, or at all events the hand, of an heiress, gets to work at once, finds his coup manqué ever so many times during one season, and soon begins to look upon his rejection as a mere matter of chance, and falls back on the grand principle of "better luck next time." the starving student, living from hand to mouth by the preparation of badly-paid work from grinding booksellers, eats his ninepenny plate of boiled beef, and hurries back to the reading-room of the british museum, convinced that the day will come when his talent shall be appreciated and remunerated as it should be. the parish-doctor's assistant sings over his pestle, and slaps his spatula cheerfully on the china plate, confident that the retired indian nabob, the wealthy widow with the quinsey, the measles-struck child of the countess, his successful care of all or one of whom will insure the pair-horse brougham, the m.d. degree, and the house in saville row, are all gradually working up towards him. "hope springs eternal in the human breast;" and so long as we perceive no symptoms of dry-rot in our dearest aspirations, we are for the most part content to grind away, facing present difficulties manfully, and awaiting the result. but if you were to prove to the irish gentleman that his fascinating powers were on the wane; to the student that his overtaxed brain was giving way; to the doctor's assistant that he was every where considered a hopeless quack, you would cut away all their hold on life, and they would be whirled into that abyss of despondency in which thousands, similarly unfortunate, yearly perish.

a phase of torture very much allied to these described was being undergone by robert streightley. the "transaction" between him and mr. guyon, under which katharine had become his wife, was constantly rising in his mind, and the heart-ache consequent thereon was only allayed by the thought that his possession of wealth enabled her to indulge in the extravagance which seemed to form a part and parcel of her life. he knew thoroughly well that, under her father's influence, he had won her by his riches, that they constituted his sole claim to respect in her eyes, that the fact of her having made "an excellent match," as bruited abroad by lady henmarsh and her set, meant that she had married a city man in a large way of business and with a large amount of ready-money at command, which would be at her disposal, and enable her to indulge all the freaks and vagaries of her fancy. it was, after all, a poor shifting foundation, a mere quicksand, on which to base any structure of future happiness; but within the last few weeks, marking the improvement in his wife's spirits, and the increase of kindly feelings towards him, robert had been content to accept it at all events as an instalment of conjugal bliss, and had flattered himself with the idea that when katharine found all her thoughts anticipated, all her wishes gratified, she might have some--he did not like to think of it as gratitude, he wanted a feeling with a warmer name--towards him who lived only to do her bidding.

feeling then against all his hopes and attempts at self-deception that in the money which he was enabled to place at his wife's command, and in the position which she was thereby enabled to obtain, lay his only chance of obtaining favour in the eyes of her, to gratify whose every whim was the only pleasure of his life, it may be imagined with what feelings robert streightley read through a letter which came to him by the same post as brought hester gould's missive alluded to in the preceding chapter. it was from his confidential clerk, mr. foster, and ran thus:

"dear sir--mr. delley, the city editor of the bullionist, who, as you know, has for many years supplied the house with reliable information, called in at 2 p.m. to see you; but learning you would not be at business to-day, he sent for me to your private room, and told me he understood that messrs. needham, nick, and driver were in a very shaky state, owing to the failure of the dublin branch of their bank, announced in to-day's city intelligence. knowing how heavy our account was against them (28,917l. 7s. 9d.), i started off at once to fenchurch street, but found the doors closed, the shutters up, and all business suspended. mr. delley has been here just now (5:30 p.m.), and talks of a shilling in the pound. old mr. nick's death, and the large sums taken out of the bank by mr. needham junior, who was only admitted as a partner two years ago, are said to have led to the wind-up. please come up at once, if convenient. your obedient servant, j. foster."

when robert streightley laid down this letter his hand trembled, his mouth was parched, and a film seemed to come over his eyes. it was not the sum lost, though that was very large, but a horrid sensation crossed him that retribution was attacking him in his most vulnerable part, that the joints in his armour had been spied out by the enemy, and that--good god! if he were to lose that one hold upon his wife's gratitude! if he were compelled to tell her that the mere wretched substance to which she had been sacrificed was a sham and a swindle, that he---- pshaw! he sank down in his chair as these thoughts rushed through his mind; then he wiped his damp brow with his handkerchief, and shook himself together as it were with one strong effort, and rising, began to pace the room. what a weak, cowardly fool he was, he thought, thus to give way this was a blow undoubtedly,--what some of the stock-exchange fellows called a "facer;" but what of that? it could be met; and even if he lost all--if things turned out as badly as foster predicted--well, thirty thousand pounds would not shake the credit of streightley and son. the mere repetition of the name seemed to rouse up innate business instincts which had been slumbering for some months--to call into action all those qualities which had made the man what he was; and he determined to go up to the city at once, and see for himself how the business stood. he waited for a minute or two until ellen had strayed off into a bye-path in search of some flower, and then he said to his wife:

"i must leave you, katharine, for a short time--four-and-twenty hours or so--not longer, dear."

his voice dropped, and quivered a little with the natural emotion which he felt. he looked tenderly up at her, and drawing near her, tightly laid his hand on her arm. she was binding together a few flowers as he joined her. she did not cease from her little task; but as she leisurely made the knot, and drew it tight with her teeth, she said, without looking up,

"o, indeed! business, i suppose?"

robert streightley started as though he had been shot. what else could he have expected? did he anticipate a few tender words of regret at his necessitated absence; a tear or two dimming the bright eyes; a little pouting or peevishness at being left alone? did he imagine that his wife might have made some inquiry as to the nature of the business which caused him to absent himself for twenty-four hours from his home? such might have been the case in those preposterous matches which are arranged thoughtlessly and frivolously by two young people without calling their elders into council--in those ridiculous unions of hearts. but there was nothing in robert streightley's bargain, no clause in his bond, to warrant his expectation of any thing of the kind. "to have and to hold," certainly; but to create sympathy, to awaken interest--no mention of either of these superfluities in the marriage-contract. so he simply said, "yes, dear; business;" and laid his lips to her cheek, and ordered his clothes to be packed, and drove away to the station.

he was uncomfortable, vacillating, wretched, all through the journey; but he became his old self as he entered his offices. as the door of his private room closed behind him, as he marked the letters lying unopened on his desk, as he took his seat in the birch-framed, cane-bottomed chair which had been his seat ever since he first assumed his junior partnership, and as he saw old foster standing at his elbow, with his paper of memoranda in his hand ready to read from,--robert streightley felt more genuine pleasure than he had for months. the mere fact of there being a difficulty--a hitch--something towards the elucidation of which the play of his business talents might tend--gave him life; the gaudia certaminis inspired him; and he set to work with such a zest, that old foster, who had been shaking his head dolefully for the past few months, and thinking to himself--he would not have breathed such an opinion for the world--that the glories of the great house of streightley and son were on the wane, took fresh heart, and indulged that evening in the enormity of an extra half-pint of stout at the chop-house where he took his dinner, in token of his delight.

robert streightley had not been more than a couple of hours at work, when a junior clerk entered, and told him that mr. guyon was outside in a cab, and had called to know if mr. streightley was in town. bidden to show mr. guyon in, the junior clerk retired, immediately returning with mr. guyon, looking ten years younger than when robert had last seen him; with his brown-black whiskers, and hair a little red-rusty from travel; with the strong trace of a silvery beard; with a rakish glengarry cap on his head, a travelling suit and a courier's bag on his body. he entered with his usual impulsive bound, and had streightley by both hands almost before the latter knew he had entered.

"the merest chance, my dear robert,--the merest chance that i should have called in to-day. returning from paris by the tidal, and having to stop at that most confounded of all confounded stations, london bridge, and having to go through this cursed city,--no offence to you, my dear boy, but it's a dreadful hole,--i thought i'd just drop in and see whether you were in town."

mr. streightley assured mr. guyon--a somewhat supererogatory assurance--that he was in town, adding--of which there was no such corroborative testimony--that he was glad to see him.

"and katharine?" asked mr. guyon, carefully smoothing his chin with his hand, and looking up under his eye-glass at his son-in-law,--"katharine is well?"

katharine was quite well, mr. streightley thanked mr. guyon.

mr. guyon devoutly thanked heaven for that news. all the traces of that horrible--eh? at martigny--quite gone, eh? thought he should never have been able to dress himself that morning when he opened streightley's note about katharine's illness. his man thought he was going to have a fit, and wanted to hasten for a doctor. told the man he was a consummate ass; that what he, mr. guyon, was suffering from was feelings; and what the devil did he, the man, know about them! and katharine was well; and their place, middlemeads--eh?--was perfection? o, he'd heard it here, there, and every where. saw roger chevers at boulogne, en passant, and had heard him say what a lovely place it was, and how leaving it had smashed up his old governor, root and branch. he was always talking of it, sir--said roger--and wondering whether they'd cut into the avenue, or whether they left that view clear top of two-ash hill, looking out the south way; or whether they'd put the stables in order, or built others where the red barn stood. that's what he should have done, if that cursed brazilian mine had only turned up trumps! "poor old gov! he'll never forget middlemeads!" said honest roger, who drowned all thought of his lost patrimony in cheap brandy and the delights of perpetual pool, and dances at the etablissement des bains.

ignoring the opinions and speculations of mr. roger chevers, robert streightley acknowledged that middlemeads was a fine place, and that he thought it had improved since it had been in his hands.

"of course, my dear robert, of course!" said mr. guyon; "your princely munificence, and what i think i may say--although my own child is in question--katharine's excellent taste, would be certain to do wonders for any place to which both could be simultaneously applied. allez, toujours, la jeunesse! a french phrase which is roughly but not inadequately rendered by our own maxim of 'go it while you're young!' as for me, i'm an old bird--an old bird, begad, come back to an empty nest, to find the sticks and the straw and all that, but my young fledgling flown." mr. guyon seemed quite affected at the allusion which he had thus made, and turned away his head, touching his eyes lightly with his handkerchief.

"i trust you will have no cause to repent of your sanction to your daughter's flight, mr. guyon," said streightley, in a somewhat marked tone. "you recollect, before she left your roof, that----"

"my dear robert! my dear robert!" interposed the old gentleman; "do you think i have forgotten the confidence in which i told you that i was unworthy of the blessing of such a daughter--that i was by nature more fitted for--for less domestic delights. and indeed i--in paris i have enjoyed myself most amazin'ly, most amazin'ly! that fellow, sir--whom i recklect when he lived in king street--used to drive a doosid good cab, i recklect; he certainly has improved paris wonderfully. but it's horribly expensive, my dear boy, horribly expensive. i--i ran rather short before i came away, and i was obliged to draw on you for a hundred--i was indeed!"

streightley's face looked very stern as he heard this. "do i understand you to say that you have drawn a bill on me for a hundred pounds, mr. guyon?"

"yes, my dear boy, at a month; it'll be due----"

"that is a liberty which i permit no one to take, and which must never be repeated."

"a liberty, robert?"

"a liberty, mr. guyon. any man who draws a bill on another without first asking his friend's permission, takes what we of the city think an unwarrantable liberty. i am sure you erred in ignorance; but i must ask you to put a stop entirely to what seems to have become a habit with you--the reliance on me for money. i cannot make you any further advances, at least for the present."

this was a great blow for mr. guyon, who had been boasting, as was his wont, amongst his english acquaintances in paris of the great wealth and generosity of his son-in-law. nor had his french friends been unenlightened on the subject; "eel a milyonair--com voter roschild vous savvy," the old gentleman had remarked with great self-satisfaction. and now to find his milch-cow refusing her supply, and as it were threatening him with her horns and heels, was any thing but pleasant. however, mr. guyon's temperament was light and elastic; he thought this determination of streightley's would not last; that some business matters had "put him out;" that his anger would soon "blow over:" so he assured his son-in-law that he would remember what he had said; and shaking hands fervently with him, skipped back to the cab, with the pleasant feeling that at least a quarter of the hundred pounds so judiciously drawn was at that moment safe in his trousers-pocket.

then robert streightley called foster into his room, and over books and ledgers, and commercial documents of all kinds, they held a consultation which lasted until late in the afternoon, and which proved to them both that the financial position of streightley and son had recently had the hardest blow, in the stopping of messrs. nick's bank, which it had received since it commenced operations of any magnitude.

"it comes at an awkward time too for you, sir," said old mr. foster. "we wanted all the ready cash we could lay our hands on just now; there are the calls on the benares railroad, and the deposits upon the indian peninsular--we're pretty deep in both of them--and there's six thousand for the lease in portland place, which of course must be paid at once. however, there's no reason to hold the indian lines; they're both at a high premium; and as this bothering bank has crippled us for a bit, perhaps we had better sell and----"

"not one share, poster! not a single share! we'll stand to our guns, and the money shall be forthcoming when it's wanted, i'll take care of that. 'forward!' has been the motto of streightley and son, foster, as you know very well, and they're not going to change it now! you shall see the thirty thousand replaced, ay and doubled, before you retire on a pension, foster, i promise you."

"there never was any one like you, mr. robert," said the old man, his eyes sparkling with pleasure; "when you say a thing will be, i know it will be, ay, as sure as the bank of england." and so closed the business consultation.

the lease of the house in portland place, which mr. foster had alluded to, was one of robert streightley's wedding-presents to his bride. they must have a town-house, of course, one befitting her position in society; and partly because of its proximity to her father's residence, partly because the substantial appearance of the portland-place houses, and the knowledge that they had been for years in great demand among the moneyed classes, pleased him, he bought the lease of this house then in the market, had the house splendidly decorated while they were away, and on their return home had given katharine carte-blanche as to its furniture. katharine had gone twice to london during their stay at middlemeads, and had held long consultations with the upholsterer, but robert had not seen the house since he had purchased it.

he walked there now; and though it was still in disorder, he was astounded at the magnificence of the decorations and the splendour of the furniture. under the direction of katharine's excellent taste, the carte-blanche given to the upholsterer had worked wonders. no duchess could have had a more perfectly-appointed house, with nothing new or perky-looking about it: for what would be the use of money nowadays if it could not purchase antiquity in every thing save family?--and even that can be manufactured to order at the heralds' college. so robert streightley walked in pleased astonishment among the high-backed chairs in the dining-room, and past the dark oak bookcases in the library, and through the pale-green drawing-rooms with the lovely hangings, the elegant portières, the buhl cabinets, the splendid glasses, the étagères, and all the nick-nackery of upholstery. it was in this last paradise that mr. streightley found one of the partners of the upholstery-firm, a gentlemanly-looking man, who was surveying his men's work with much complacency. he bowed to robert, and hoped he was pleased with what had been done. mr. streightley expressed himself as thoroughly satisfied; and mr. clinch then ventured to hope that he should not be considered troublesome if he were to ask for a cheque--not for the total, of course--just something on account, as workmen's wages must be paid, &c. certainly; what amount did messrs. clinch require? mr. walter clinch "for self and partners" ventured to name the sum of twelve hundred pounds. mr. streightley, after the smallest possible start, made a memorandum in his pocketbook, and said that a cheque should be sent the next day.

twelve hundred pounds for decorations and furniture--"on account" too, showing that there was perhaps as much again to pay! katharine had certainly understood the word carte-blanche in its widest and most liberal sense. twelve hundred pounds! and until his marriage he had lived in a little brixton villa, the entire furniture of which was not worth one-third of the sum. should he speak to his wife, should he----? not he! now she was his wife, why was she his wife? simply for the sake of his money--that money which he had placed at her command. the one happiness that he could offer her was the power of spending money, and should he refuse her that? the only salve that he could apply to his never-quiet conscience was that he had been enabled to supply her with the means of gratifying extravagant tastes which must have remained ungratified had she married that--had she made that match which seemed so imminent when he had that never-to-be-forgotten interview with mr. guyon. no! katharine had married him because he was a rich man, and a rich man he must remain to her. besides, after all, what was her expenditure? what were these few hundred pounds to him? this horrible bank business had frightened him, he supposed; had it not happened, should he have given the smallest thought to such a trifle as mr. clinch's account?

nevertheless, all that he had said to foster he determined on carrying out. there should be no "drawing-in their horns," no curtailment in the operations of streightley and son. the money necessary to meet this bank failure must be raised somehow. he could get it in the city at an hour's notice. from the bank of england downwards there were plenty of establishments ready to help the old-established firm. but such matters are talked of in the city, chatted over in the bank parlour, whispered on 'change, give matter for gossip and shoulder-shrugs and eyebrow-liftings; and robert's spirit shrunk from the idea that he or his firm could form the subject of any such speculations. and yet the money must be had. where could he turn for it? ah, a lucky thought! that man--mr. guyon's friend--what was his name? thacker: a shrewd, clear-headed, clever man. he would go and see him, and talk the matter over.