CHAPTER XXXIX.

COMPOUND INTEREST.

MR BROWNLOW and his son were a long time together. They talked until the autumn day darkened, and they had no more light for their calculations. Mr Brownlow had been very weary,-even stupefied. He had entered upon the conversation because he could not resist Jack's eagerness, and the decided claim he made to know fully a business which so much concerned him. He had a right to know, which his father could not dispute; but nevertheless all the events of the past twenty-four hours had worn Mr Brownlow out. He was stupefied; he did not know what had happened; he could not recollect the details. When his attention was fully arrested, a certain habit of business kept him on, and his mind was clear enough when they went into figures, and when he had to make his son aware of the magnitude of the misfortune which had almost

trovi ka ovi mlad if as balance. The facts were beyond all comment. li vas simple run; but such was the name of the men and the agreement in it, that they both worked on their reckoning andinchLagly and when they saw what i was not so much as other an exclamatico. They laid down, the one Ela pen and the other his pencil as the twilight darkened round them There was no controversy between them. It was nobody's fault Jack might have added a sting to everything by reproaching his father for the ignorance in which he had been brought up, but he had no mind for any such useless exasperation. Things were as bad as bad could be; therefore they brought their calculations to an end very quietly, and came to the same conclusion as the darkness closed over them. They sat for a minute on opposite sides of the table, not looking at each other, with their papers before them, and their minds filled with one sombre thought. Whether it was that or the mere fall of day which was closing round them neither could have told-only that under this dull oppression there was in Jack's mind a certain wild suppressed impatience, an overwhelming sense of all that was included in the crisis; while his father in the midst of it could not repress a strange longing to throw himself down upon the sofa, to close his eyes, to be alone in the silence and dark

The

ness. Rest was his most imperative want. young man's mind was thrilling with a desire to be up and at his troubles, to fight and make some head against them. But then things were new to Jack; whereas to Mr Brownlow, who had already made a long and not guiltless struggle, the only thing apparent and desirable was rest-to lie down and be quiet for a little, to have no question asked him, nothing said to him, or, if it should please God, to sleep.

Jack, however, was not the man, under the circumstances, to let his father get either sleep or rest. After they had made all the calculations possible, and said everything that was to be said, he did not go away, but sat silent, biting his nails and pondering much in his mind. They had been thus for about half an hour without exchanging a word, when he suddenly broke into speech.

"It must go into Chancery, I suppose ?" he said. "She has got to prove her identity, and all that. You will have time at least to realise all your investments. Too much time perhaps."

"She is an old woman," said Mr Brownlow. He was thinking of nothing beyond the mere matter of fact, and there was no meaning in his voice, but yet it startled his son. "And you were to marry her daughter. I had almost forgotten that. You were

very decided on the subject last time you spoke to me. In that case everything would be yours."

"I hope she may live for ever!" said Jack, getting up from his chair; "and she has no intention of giving me her daughter now-not that her intention matters much," he said to himself, half muttering, as he stood with his hand on the table. The change was bewildering. He would have his Pamela still, whatever anybody might say; but to run away with his pretty penniless darling, and work for her and defy the world for her, was very different from running away with the little heiress who had a right to every penny he had supposed his own. It was very hard upon him; but all the same he had no intention of giving in. No idea of selfsacrifice ever crossed his mind. It made the whole matter more confusing, more disagreeable-but anybody's intention mattered very little, father or mother; he meant to have his love and his way all the same.

"It had

"It does matter," said Mr Brownlow. much better never go into Chancery at all. I never had any objections to the girl-you need not be impatient. I always liked the girl. She is like your mother. I never knew what it wasThen Mr Brownlow made a little pause. "Poor Bessie!" he said, though it was an exclamation that did not

seem called for. It was this fortune that had first made him think of Bessie. It was for her sake-for the sake of making a very foolish marriage—that he had made use of the money which at first was nothing but a plague and burden to him. Somehow she seemed to come up before him now it was melting away, and he knew that the charm of Pamela's dewy eyes and fresh face had been their resemblance to Bessie. The thought softened his heart, and yet made it sting and ache. "This matter is too important for temper or pride," he went on, recovering himself. "If we are to treat as enemies, of course I must resist, and it will be a long suit, and perhaps outlive us all. But if you are to be her daughter's husband, the question is different. You are the natural negotiator between us."

"I can't be; it is impossible," cried Jack; and then he sat down again in his chair in a sort of sullen fury with himself. Of course he was the natural negotiator. It was weakness itself to think of flinching from so plain a duty; and yet he would rather have faced a battery or led a forlorn hope.

"You must be," said Mr Brownlow. "We are all excited at this present moment; but there can be no doubt of what your position entails. You are my son, and you are, against my will, contrary to my

VOL. III.

M