and what was charles yeldham doing with himself during all these months? what indeed, save pursuing his "treadmill," daily increasing in reputation and practice, and accumulating more and more money for little constance's dowry. the attorneys' clerks who climbed up his black staircase were more numerous than ever. though never relaxing from his work for five minutes more than usual, he found himself compelled day by day to postpone the acceptance of cases, with the alternative of rejecting them altogether; and by the sheer force of perseverance and industry he was on the high road to fame and wealth. he did not relax now any thing like so much as when his old chum gordon frere shared his chambers with him: there were no five minutes of chat and chaff and raillery; no listening to poor gordon's confidences on love, debt, future career, now. the only time which charley yeldham allowed himself for talking of unprofessional matters was the half-hour during which he smoked his final pipe, and drank his glass of grog before going to bed; and then he would pass in review the curious events that had happened eight months before, and wonder at and reason over them. three men running after one girl--three! well, he could hardly count himself; though, certainly, he had thought more about katharine guyon than of any other woman before or since (and, let it be noted, that at this stage of his reflections he invariably produced from his desk a photographic carte which he had obtained of her, and gazed at it with great tenderness)--two men, we'll say, in hot pursuit, and bob sobersides winning the race! she must have been an outrageous flirt, that miss guyon, though! dear old charley yeldham, with all his partiality, his romantic fondness for katharine, is constrained to admit--an outrageous flirt. did not she carry-on with poor gordon, fooling him to the top of his bent; meeting him at the opera, at botanical fêtes, at balls, and what not; flower from her bouquet, hand-pressure, appointment for the next day? and, after all, did she not whistle him down the wind, throw him away as one does a split-pen, and marry robert streightley? ay, ay! ay, ay! better the old desk and the long "treadmill"--better the flirtations with attorneys, and billets-doux from bedford row, all of which have some satisfactory result, at least, than the pinning of your faith on a woman's word, and the breaking of your heart by a woman's tricks! after all, it was perhaps better that such a girl should have married such a man as robert streightley. his steadiness would guide and control her; his wealth would enable her to indulge her taste for extravagance; and her dash and beauty would give pleasant status amongst his acquaintance. nothing of that kind could have happened had she married poor gordon frere. both young, extravagant, and reckless; both accustomed to have their own way; both fond of flirtation; neither understanding the theory of "give and take"--dear me! dear me! thought charley yeldham to himself, when the honeymoon was over, that would have been a disastrous business and a wretched ménage.

he had had several letters from gordon, then private secretary to lord ----, acting minister at rudolfstadt; letters full of complaints, which were ludicrous to the reader, though evidently insufferable to the writer. "it's a dull, wearying, dreary place, dear old boy," said gordon; "a beastly hole, with no one but besotted germans to talk to, who all are either professors, when they bore you to death with their metaphysical cant, or half-fed dragoon officers, who make you long to kick them for their infernal impertinence. old wigsby, who has nothing to do, and who never opens a book or gives what ought to be his brains, but what i firmly believe is either tow or wool, the smallest exercise, passes his days in calling on the frau ober consistorial directorin or the hochgeborner herr, and his nights in sitting in their wretched twopenny theatres listening to their squealing singers. he expects me to attend him on both occasions, and airs himself to this german-silver nobility, this veneered haute noblesse, in his patronage of me, d--n him (that's by way of parenthesis). on wednesday nights we go to the j?ger hof, where the duke von friedenstein lives when he is visible; and the entertainments there are something which would be too much even for you, charley, old fellow--and you know you can stand a lot in the way of dulness! the old duke stands at the end of a big room, and bows away like mad to every one who comes in, until i wonder how his old spine holds out; and then the company wander through the rooms, and look at the curios and the pictures in the kunst kammer, which they've all of them seen a thousand times before; and then the squealing singers from the theatre tune up and shriek away for dear life in the music gallery. and then there's not a bad supper of a queer kind: big hams and potato-salad and herring salad, and hot salmon and cold jelly, and cold rice and jam, and some very decent light wines; and it's all over by ten o'clock, and we're off to bed. old wigsby goes to these lets-off en grande tenue, and is, i am sure, seriously grieved that etiquette does not permit him to wear his court suit. he is the most stupendous ass you can conceive, and is always haranguing me about 'the position of a diplomatist,' and the 'representative of her britannic majesty;' he makes a précis of his washing-bills, and tells me that lord palmerston would not 'suffer my handwriting, which is frivolous and unformed.' what the deuce do i care? i only wish i was back in england--not for the reasons which you probably assign for the wish. all that is past and gone, and i sometimes grow hot all over when i think of the melodramatic farewell which i took of you, my dear old charley, at the london bridge station. i was an idiot then; but now that fire has burnt out, and left very cold ashes. i hope mrs. streightley is well and happy, with her charming husband. you'll grin at this, you old sceptic; but on my honour it's true. i haven't the smallest shadow of regret for k.g., and i don't care one straw for any woman in the world. but i do long to be out of this infernal place, to be rid of old wigsby and his pomposity and patronage, and to be out of earshot of this hard grating german cackle, which sometimes makes me stop my ears and kick with sheer rage. how are the old chambers looking, and how is their old owner? o, if i could only put my hands on his dear old broad shoulders, and have half-an-hour's chat with him, it would do me a deal of good! yours always,--g. f."

ex uno disce omnes. this was a specimen of gordon frere's letters, and the perusal of which left charley yeldham any thing but satisfied with his friend's position. it was a good thing to think that he was cured of his love infatuation,--so cured that he could write calmly and even kindly of the traitress and his successful rival; but the monotony of his life, and the dull dreariness of rudolfstadt, were evidently eating into his soul. no good could come of the continuance of such distasteful work; and if gordon frere's career were to be any thing but one of blighted hopes and miserable vegetating, he must begin anew, and that too with all possible speed. so yeldham, after cogitating deeply over the matter, at last wrote to his friend, and told him he felt that the sooner he put an end to the business in which he was at present engaged, the better it would be for him, and the greater likelihood he would have in adopting some new profession, which he might pursue with pleasure and profit to himself. it was evident that gordon was wasting his life in rudolfstadt; and his friend's advice to him was, to make his adieux to his patron wigsby, and return at once to london. here the old chambers were ready to receive him; and if he were to make up his mind to go to the bar, yeldham thought he might do well enough. "i don't mean to say that you'll soon be attorney-general, young fellow, or that your opinions are likely to outweigh chitty's; but you used to be fluent enough at the apollo debating society; you've a certain knowledge of the world, and unparalleled impudence; and with the possession of these qualities, and with the aid which i can give you among the attorneys, i think you're likely before long to be able to gain your bread-and-cheese at the old bailey: at all events, you will be in london, where a man ought to be, if ever he wants to profit by chances; and you'll be relieved from that harassing depression which seems to me to be sapping your character, and rendering you utterly degenerate."

it was a great relief to honest charles yeldham's mind to find that gordon frere had so readily, and to all appearance so effectually, got over his disappointment in regard to katharine. often and often in the few leisure minutes stolen from his work had yeldham sat, with his pipe in his mouth, pondering over the curious history of robert streightley's marriage, and wondering how it might be influenced by frere's return. for, recluse as he was, unworldly in the "society" sense, and nearly entirely given up to his work, yeldham knew enough of human nature to feel perfectly certain that the marriage which mr. guy on so prided himself in having brought about was no love-match; that streightley was by no means the kind of man to have awakened any passion in the breast of such a woman as katharine; and that when any strong opposing influence might be brought into play, his tenure on her fealty would be slight indeed. the only thing that puzzled yeldham was, how the marriage had been managed, and how kate's consent to it had been obtained. unless gordon frere's vanity was most self-deceptive, this girl had undoubtedly been hotly in love with him within an ace of her engagement to streightley. she was not by any means the sort of girl to be prevailed upon by parental coaxings or threats (though her father was exactly the man to employ both); and robert had only his honesty of purpose, which was nothing to women in general--and his wealth, which was nothing to this woman in particular--to back his suit. there was something in the whole affair which was inexplicable to charles yeldham; and being inexplicable, he resolved never to rest until it was explained.

he had not seen streightley, save in one or two casual street-meetings, since the marriage; and though he had received a warm invitation to middlemeads, pressure of business had prevented him from availing himself of it. pressure of business, he said; but he wasted the whole of the evening on which he received the invitation (and on which, with his powers of working, he might have got through a great deal of work) in handling the dainty note, and conning it over and over, and in smoking many pipes, and thinking over many strange things. the note was in katharine's hand, and ran thus:

"my dear mr. yeldham,--finding that his own efforts at inducing you to visit us are completely useless, mr. streightley asks me to try mine. i think i need scarcely say how happy we shall be to see you here, and how our utmost endeavours will be used to compensate you for your absence from those legal studies, in which, i am assured, you find your sole delight.--very faithfully yours,

"katharine streightley."

a simple note, with a very slight touch of very mild badinage. but charles yeldham was unaccustomed to the receipt of letters from ladies, and this one certainly had a singular effect on him. what a pretty hand she wrote! how refreshing were the thin, slight, angular strokes after the rounded fists of the attorneys' clerks! how the dainty paper and brilliant monogram contrasted with the blue-wove and the wafer-stamp seal of his ordinary correspondence! and then, as he puffed at his pipe, and watched the blue vapour curling up around his head, charley remembered the first, almost the only time he had ever seen her in that soft diaphanous dress at the botanical fête, where, even before he knew who she was, he had been sensible of her presence, and where he had felt himself completely subjugated by her loveliness, her elegance, and grace. they would laugh at him, frere and some fellows of his acquaintance, as a stoic and a cynic,--not that he was one or the other,--but, after all, was it not better to go through life unvexed and untroubled by thoughts of lovely women, who were as far removed from you as the stars, than to endeavour to win them, and find yourself cast down from star-height as the reward of your presumption? it was a dull life his, no doubt; with nothing to cheer it but the success of his work, and--good god! how beautiful she was! (here he took the photograph out); what perfect grace in the pose of her head, in the resting of her hands, in the long sweeping folds of her dress! ah, if little constance ever grew up to be any thing like that, there would be less need of the dower which her brother was so carefully putting by for her! no wonder gordon frere, young, impressible, buoyant, and hopeful, was desperately in love with such a beauty; no wonder that, looking at her, robert streightley forgot his ventures, his shares, his cautious dealings, and his longheaded speculations, and rushed into the matrimonial market, determined, at whatever cost, to carry off the prize.

how had robert streightley accomplished this result? the desire of being successful was intelligible; but how was the success arrived at? as yeldham pondered over his question, during his midday interval of rest, and while smoking his midday pipe, there came a knock at the oak; and opening it, yeldham admitted the man of all others most likely to be able to answer him--robert streightley himself.

he came in wincing a little at the clouds of strong cavendish which filled the barrister's room, and seated himself in the attorneys' chair. he looked pale and a little careworn, but he greeted yeldham certainly as heartily as usual, and smiled as he said, "for once in his life!--bravo! for once in his life, i've found the machine without the steam up, and charley yeldham not at his desk!"

"sir," replied charley, "you come at a peculiar time; these are the five minutes of relaxation; so let us relax together! robert, my boy, you're looking very seedy, white and peaky!"

"well, i have been rather seedy; but i'm not very bad after all. i've had a good deal of worry lately, in one shape or another, and worry tells on me more than it did. getting old, i suppose!"

"you ought to take a partner, robert; i mean a business partner. that affair of yours is too big to carry on single-handed. o, tell me, by the way--you won't misconstrue the reason of my asking--that confounded bank failure? rumour says you were hit hard by it. is it true?"

"yes; for once in the course of events rumour hasn't lied. our house was in heavily, and has suffered with the rest."

"that's part of your trouble, robert?"

"well, perhaps part; though i should scarcely say so, as the money-loss has been replaced, and streightley and son have passed the sponge across the slate, and look upon it as an unutterably bad debt."

"lucky for them that they are able to do so; had it been my case, i should either have been playing rackets in whitecross street, or wearing a black wig and whiskers, and hiding myself as much as possible in a steamer bound to a country without an extradition treaty. i often think if you great commercial swells only knew how we professional men live, and the amount of the balance presently standing to our credit at our bankers----"

"yes; and if you professional men only knew how the commercial swells, as you call us, envy you your freedom from responsibility."

"freedom from responsibility, indeed! by the way, how's your wife?"

"apropos of responsibility! she'd take that as a compliment. she's very well indeed, old boy, very well; not up in town yet. still staying at middlemeads, where you've never yet been, though both of us have done our best to get you there."

"my dear robert, what on earth would be the good of my arriving at your country place with a blue stuff bag full of papers, and enjoying my holiday in the country by sticking to your library from morning till night, reading cases, drawing pleas, and giving opinions? i feel perfectly certain that at your library-table, which is probably virgin-free from ink-blots, in your library-chair, which is probably comfortable, and surrounded by your country atmosphere, which of course is pure and fresh, the few wits which i possess would leave me, and the most which i should do at middlemeads would have the effect of utterly depriving me from ever earning five guineas again. no, i won't come to middlemeads until i can--with a comfortable conscience--leave my blue bag behind me, and when that will be heaven only knows!"

"and in the mean time, and for the mere sake of your work, you drag your life on in these solitary chambers?"

"listen to him! listen to benedick the married man; so full of domestic happiness that he must crow over us poor bachelors. very well, old fellow, as fate has willed it, is my life; the more work i have the happier i am: if i had not any, i should stick my head into the temple fountain, and thereby incur the odium of the benchers. no, i must not do that quite, while i've the old governor and constance left, lest i should be supremely wretched; whereas in my work i'm thoroughly happy; and as for solitary chambers--well, they are solitary now, but they wern't once, and won't be again soon, i think. my old chum's coming home."

"your old chum? who do you mean?"

"why, the man who lived with me in these rooms before, and will share them again, i hope. gordon frere."

"gordon frere? is he coming back to england--to london?" robert streightley's face turned pale as he asked this question, and his lips twitched with nervous anxiety.

"i hope so. i've written to him to try and persuade him to do so. he's a clever fellow, airy and specious, with what they call a good 'gift of the gab;' and i want him to try his fortune at the bar."

streightley rose from his chair, took a few paces round the room, then settled himself again with his face shaded by his hand, looking at his friend.

"you were very intimate with this man frere, charley?" he asked in a hard dry voice, after a minute's pause.

"intimate? didn't he live here, i tell you?--though you knew it long since, if you'll only give yourself the trouble to recollect."

"and you were thoroughly in his confidence?"

charles yeldham answered, "entirely." but the word had scarcely escaped him when he saw the drift of the question, and wished he had pondered ere replying.

"then you know, i suppose, that he--that he was--was in love with miss guyon--with my wife?"

"my dear robert, what on earth are you talking about, what on earth----"

"do you know it, or don't you?"

"i have heard it, of course, and----"

"you have heard it, of course; and now he's coming back! coming back, curse him!"

"my dear streightley, have you taken leave of your senses? what on earth has the young man's return--although in past times he might have had sufficient good taste to admire miss guyon and hope to win her, for which i honour him--yes! i say i honour him--what on earth has his return to do with such an outbreak as this?"

"never mind, charles yeldham! he shan't see her! look here--mark this--he may be a friend of yours or not, but he shan't see her. i'll have no renewal of old friendships and all that! he shan't see her! mr. guyon shall take care of that. i'll appeal to him, and he'll back me up, i know."

"my dear robert, if you're weak enough to have to appeal to your father-in-law in any matter in which your wife is concerned, i think you're to be pitied! however, don't fear! any feeling which frere may have had for miss guyon is quite past and gone, and now that she is mrs. streightley----"

"ah! that's all very well; but he shan't see her. mr. guyon will back me up in that, i'm sure. i know he will. good-bye, charley;" and mr. streightley turned the handle of the door and left the chambers.

the attorneys whose cases mr. yeldham had in hand that day found the celebrated conveyancer a little dilatory. their clerks attending the next morning were bidden to call again later in the day. you see you don't get through much work when, your feet on the fender, and a pipe in your mouth, you sit for the whole afternoon staring at the grate and chewing the cud of mental reflection. "'he shan't see her!' why not? streightley cannot be idiot enough to suppose that there is such fascination in frere as to--o no! that's not it. 'he shan't see her'--that means they shan't meet, shan't speak, shan't--'mr. guyon shall take care of that--he'll back me up'--mr. guyon!--they shan't meet! mr. guyon back me up!--they shan't meet! no answer to gordon's proposal, no meeting with him at that ball--old guyon's reply as to the pre-engagement and--now, by the lord, robert streightley, i only hope my thoughts are wrong; for if i'm right, you've been led by weakness or worse into a base conspiracy, and henceforth are no friend of mine!"